


You Send Me

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: FTM Reader, M/M, trans reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: So, time for something a little bit self-indulgent, but that I hope y’all might enjoy as well!Title comes from the song by Sam Cooke, he has a voice smooth like butter and as beautiful as sunshine, so give that a listen before or after you read this, just so long as you listen to it lol.This is my first trans (FtM) reader/Freddie fic, with a dash of my usual gen Queen fic antics thrown in. I have it taking place during the American and Canadian tour that Queen was on in 1978, in a bit of an AU version of it where Freddie is A. for sure single and ready to mingle so to speak, and B. the crew would be willing to pick up a new road crew member that was a novice and take them on tour!I’m trying to keep it from seeming too personal to me, though I admit part of the reason I’m writing it is because this is also something I’ve been wanting to read lol. I didn’t intend for it to be multi-chapter (especially since I have another multi-chapter fic for a different fandom I still need to finish…) but that’s where it went!
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. 1

“New kid is gonna tip over,” John muttered, pointing you out to Roger. 

Admittedly, the amp was at least the size of your torso if laid vertically against you, but it wasn’t overly heavy, just kind of, and you didn’t think you looked all that awkward. 

Apparently, that wasn’t the case. 

“He can hear you,” Roger said after another puff on his cigarette. “Whisper, at least.” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. The teasing, you had been warned, was all in good nature, and everyone went through it their first tour with Queen. No one was actually out to hurt feelings, at least not intentionally, and by the end each person had a new nickname from the band as a result. It was like the first odd holiday with a significant other’s family, or so you figured, having not actually experienced that yourself, but having heard horror stories. 

“He can’t hear me,” John protested. 

“I can,” you spoke up, fighting to hide how out of breathe you were getting holding up the amp. Where the fuck was Crystal with the dolly to finish moving everything? 

“Ah,” was all John said in reply, his eyes watching your arms as they shook just slightly. 

“For pity’s sake!” 

Before you could so much as try and readjust the amp in your arms, half of it was out of your arms and into Freddie’s, who had come out of seemingly nowhere.

“Waiting on Crystal?” he asked calmly, as if having to help out his road crew like this was utterly par the course. 

“I am,” you replied. “Should someone go check on him?” 

“Oh no,” Freddie shook his head. “He’s probably having a cigarette outside.” 

You nodded, then frowned and shook your head. “But he told me he’d be right back to put this in the-” 

The reality of the slightly mean prank slowly dawned on you. 

“We should probably set this down, shouldn’t we?” you muttered. 

“Got nowhere else to be except the next town over,” Freddie chirped, cheerful from how fantastically the show had gone. His eyes were still alight with the night’s adrenaline. “And this amp will need to come with us, so I won’t go until it does.” 

“It does get heavy, though,” you pointed out. Even Freddie’s arms were starting to twitch just a bit the longer you stood there, John and Roger giggling a few feet away. 

“Think we could leave you two here all night, doing that,” Roger smirked. “You ruined it, by the way, Fred. I had a bet going with Crystal on how long he’d hold it, you owe me a tenner now.” 

“We’d find plenty fun to do here together, if you abandoned us, thank you very much,” Freddie replied, sticking out his tongue at Roger before gesturing to you to help him set the amp down. “More fun then you’ll find with your tenner.” 

“That a challenge?” Roger smiled, his cigarette deftly plucked from his lips before it could fall with the movement. 

Freddie only shook his head before striding over and tossing Roger a ten pound bill from his pocket. “Come on now…uh…” 

He winced, and you realized you hadn’t even been properly introduced to him aside from being called ‘the kid’ (a ridiculous title to you, your argument being you were only a year younger than John, making you a respectable 26.) 

“Y/N,” you said, and ignored the giggles from John and Roger. 

“How does an American come by that name?” Freddie asked, but there was no malice in his voice. 

“Chose it myself,” you said, and shot John a look. He’d been wonderful and kind thus far about not outing your unfortunately still legal old first name to anyone, but he seemed into stirring shit up this evening, and you found yourself nervous. 

“I’d like to hear sometime how you came to choose that one,” Freddie continued. You’d been warned about this, in a good way, that he had a way for making a person feel like there was no one else in the room but the two of you, and that it could be overwhelming the first time if you weren’t used to that. 

You weren’t used to it, but you liked it. 

“Not really that interesting of a story,” you replied softly. 

One of his brows twitched just barely, and he smiled. “Fair enough, if you say. But I’d like to hear it regardless.” 

“Really?” 

Before he could reply, you all turned to the sound of footsteps heading out the door. 

“Did Crystal forget us?” John asked less to anyone but to the door outside as it slammed shut and the lights in the backstage area flicked off. 

The only visible light was the tip of Roger’s cigarette, as he puffed and replied. “Think that might be a yes.” 

You stood stock-still, afraid to accidentally trip over the amp and somehow hurt it. There was the sound of scuffling footsteps, and once all three of them seemed to be gone, you let out a soft sigh. 

“God, I know,” Freddie sighed. 

The urge to jump a foot was hard to resist, but you managed it. “I thought you left with them.” 

“Thought about it,” Freddie said. “But they’ll come back for us, and someone needs to watch the amp.” 

“I’m here,” you reminded him, though you didn’t exactly relish the idea of being alone in a theater that felt just as empty as you knew it was. 

“But why should you have to stay alone? You’d stay for me, I’m sure,” Freddie replied. 

“That’s a little bit different.” 

You couldn’t see the glint in Freddie’s eye, but you had seen it often enough and could tell by the weight of the silence that it was there. 

“Is that so? How is it different?” 

“Well,” you swallowed a breath, fighting off the odd set of nerves that had just awakened, as you hadn’t felt nervous around the crew or band aside from ‘new job jitters’ until now. “You’re the talent. I mean, my main job is just getting coffee, toting things around, doing what Crystal tells me, doing what you guys tell me, doing what anyone else tells me-” 

Freddie interrupted you with a giggle. “Make it sound more glamorous, why don’t you.” 

“It still is!” you insisted. “I mean, this is what I signed up for, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful-” 

He interrupted you again with a laugh. “Stop that, I’m only teasing. No one mentioned you were so sensitive.” 

You opened your mouth to reply, then closed it for a moment. “Teasing?” 

“Now he’s getting it,” Freddie smiled, and you could just make it out as your eyes adjusted to the dark. 

A comfortable silence settled over you both as you waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

Finally you both ended up sat by the amp, leaning just so slightly against each side of it. 

“He doesn’t do this often, does he?” you asked.

“Crystal? No, never,” Freddie replied, and bit at his lip. You could see the wheels turning, him working over exactly what Crystal’s deal tonight must be to have forgotten not only equipment, but band members and crew at the venue. “I mean, he’ll play that joke, have you hold something expensive and heavy longer than you should have to before he comes in to help you carry out and be packed, but if this is another version of that…” 

“Not a fan?” 

“Not really, no,” Freddie answered. “Not that I’m stuck here with you, just that we’re stuck here at all. I should be sleeping at the hotel, and you should be…well, getting into whatever mischief you want with the rest of the crew.” 

“I don’t think they’re interested in any of that with me,” you admitted. It felt safe to talk about it in the dark, when you could only just make each other out. “I haven’t really fit in yet, but this is my first tour, and I mean, I wasn’t even with you until we met in the first city here, and that’s not the time to get to know someone, I figure, and-” 

Freddie hushed you softly, sweetly. “I’m getting to know you, and we’re in a city, on tour, essentially working. What would prevent them from doing the same thing, in a moment or two of down time?” 

You didn’t have a good answer for that. You had tried to get along with the road crew, but in their defense, most of them had been on at least one tour before this. They had their methods, rhythms, routines, and you, as the new kid, were a kink in those that maybe wasn’t exactly welcomed. 

And of course, you didn’t want to think it might be the one thing you were desperately worried it was. 

It wasn’t like it was a secret. The only reason you knew the crew member who had gotten you this job was due to meeting him while in Europe, getting treatment for your transition. Presumably, he had told the band and the rest of the crew how you had met. 

But you didn’t want to think that you were transgender would be enough reason for the crew to avoid you, not when they otherwise seemed kind and accepting, like a family with their playful teasing and poking at each other, even at the band. 

But. 

You couldn’t know for sure that it wasn’t the reason. The reason they hadn’t mentioned the nights they were going for drinks after a show, didn’t seem to be interested in getting to know you. 

It was like Freddie could see clear through you in the dark. “I don’t think it’s for the reason you might be thinking about. And if I should find it is, please know they would be talked to straight away. That wouldn’t be acceptable, not in our little touring family.” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank you. I don’t think it’s that either. I hope not, at least.”

“Like I say,” Freddie said. “If you should find out that would be the reason, you let me know, and I’ll set them straight. But I’d gather it’s just because they’re not used to having new blood on the crew. You said this is your first tour?” 

You nodded. “But I worked at a venue in my hometown before. So I know how to do it once you get settled, it’s the in-between bits I’m still learning, maybe not as fast as I should be.” 

“I can’t speak for the rest of the crew,” Freddie said. “But I think you’re doing just fine. Don’t fuss over it, even if they get on you. You’re doing your best, right?” 

You nodded again. 

“Well, you can’t do anymore than that,” Freddie said with a finality. “And I’m told my standards are sky-high and ridiculous at times, so if you’ve impressed me, then surely you must be doing well, right?” 

“I suppose,” you replied with a smile. “But that’s not the impression I have of you. You’re the first band member to even talk to me this much.” 

The light from the opening doorway filtered in, and with it you could see the concern on Freddie’s face at that last statement. “That will change.” 

He said it as a fact, and you weren’t about to question him as he gently took you by the arm and led you outside, brushing past Crystal and another tech as they stumbled in with myriad apologies falling from their lips, reaching to pick up the amp for you before they were even close enough to do so. 

“Thank you for staying with me,” you said as the two of you reached the tour bus. “And talking to me, and just…everything. I feel a lot better about being out here, like I might belong at some point.” 

“You belong now,” Freddie said, almost sternly, yet kindly. His eyes met yours, and there was an intensity behind them. He meant what he was saying, that much was incredibly clear. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.” 

His hand lingered on yours for just a moment before he stepped onto the first step into the bus. “And we’ll be talking again, of course, so if anyone should try and tell you otherwise…” 

“I let you know,” you replied, and tried and failed to hide the blush that rose to your face. This wasn’t something to be taken the way you were taking it now, you knew from everyone else that Freddie charmed pretty much everyone he got to know. 

But it was sincere in the kindest, warmest way, and the way his eyes had met yours, and his hand had lingered left you going over that part of the night over and over again in your head. Even the news of the need to drive through the night now, since the crew had accidentally messed up the time table some with their unintentionally long prank on you and Freddie, didn’t shake you from the reel of the night playing in your mind. 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bad night that gets better, and a sign that maybe this tour will be special for more than just being Y/N’s first with Queen.

The next day was a whirlwind. In part because you were fighting to be not behind on time anymore, and in part because…well. It was a tour with Queen. For it to not be a whirlwind would perhaps have been more unusual, as far as you knew. 

And this show was a rough one. Issues with the power, issues with instruments, and a crowd that, just as Freddie would get them hyped and standing, was immediately shouted at by security to simmer down. 

“Fuck!” 

The mic stand half flew in your direction, and you just managed to catch it as Freddie stomped backstage.

He stopped when he saw you, and for a moment his anger over the night seemed to pause. “Christ, did I nearly spear you with that?” 

“Good hand-eye coordination practice,” you replied, holding the mic stand half as if it were gold (and as far as you were concerned, it was.) “No harm, no foul.” 

“Sorry,” Freddie muttered, before dropping into the first chair he saw. “That would be a fitting end to the night. Running you off to hospital, because I accidentally stabbed you.” 

You hesitated. There wasn’t really anything good to say; the night was what it was, and there was no way to magically make it better. 

“Well, it was good dodging practice, in case I ever do anything to get myself fired.” 

Freddie had been glaring up at the ceiling tiles, but tilted his head back down to smirk at you as the rest of the band trickled into the room. “I like this one. He’s funny, the rest of you never are on nights like this.” 

“And why the fuck should we be?” Roger spat.

“Don’t,” Brian said sharply, and you winced as Roger whirled around.

Instead of shouting, he pouted, and sighed. “The rest of the shows will be better. They have to be.” 

“Who says that?” John asked and smiled, but the smile dropped along with the temperature in the room as the rest of the band glared in his direction. “Fuck’s sake. I was just joking.” 

“We’re all just tired,” Freddie sighed. “And frustrated. We should go before we tear this room to shreds.” 

“You were thinking of that?” Roger asked. “I thought I was the only one.” 

“No,” Brian responded as Freddie nodded. “Me as well. Would be satisfying to just…” 

“Lose it?” John finished the sentence with a raise of his brow. 

“That,” you said with a slight tremor in your voice. “Could be fun. But, and stay with me-” 

“What if we didn’t?” Freddie chuckled. “So you all don’t have to clean up after us? That’s a fair point. We’ll have to shake this off some other way.” 

“How?” Roger muttered as he changed, tossing his used clothes back into the suitcase they’d come from. 

“Let’s ask the American,” Freddie mused. “You know the place best. Where can we go to let off some steam?” 

“Uh,” you mumbled. “This is a big city, I’m sure I can find something. For now, maybe drinks and venting round the table together, I mean that’s what I do usually, well, I’m usually alone but I vent to myself and that’s helpful at times so maybe-” 

You stopped as you felt all of their eyes on you. 

“You willing to play Agony Aunt?” John asked.

“Me? I’d come with?” 

“Why ever not?” Freddie asked. “Your suggestion, you should come with. And you know just how bad the night was, seeing it from your side of things, so you can vent with us.” 

You hesitated. “The rest of the crew…” 

“Crystal!” Roger shouted into the hall.

“What?!” 

“Are you busy?” 

Crystal’s head popped around the doorway, and he gestured for you to bring him Freddie’s mic stand half. “No, just shutting down and cleaning up an entire fucking stage set, not busy at all. Do you need something, or is this one here incapable of helping you all?” 

“That’s what I mean,” Roger replied. “He’s gonna come listen to us bitch at the bar. Said it’ll be better anger management than tearing this room to bits and pieces. Think you can spare him?” 

Crystal looked at Roger, then at you, then back to Roger, his face a mix of confusion and frustration. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do with him, so long as you consider it him working and helping out.” 

“There,” Roger said with a grin. “They’ll be fine without you, you even have permission from one of the boss men. Come on, let’s go!” 

“I’m still changing!” John protested. 

Freddie hadn’t even started to change, still slumped in the chair, an arm tossed over his eyes. “John is still changing, and I will be. Eventually. Just relax, Rog.” 

Roger shook his head at you. “Musicians. Honestly.” 

Brian scoffed. “And what are you then?” 

“The man who didn’t take an hour to change out of his trousers,” Roger replied with a clap of his hands. “Come on, get moving! I need a drink.” 

It took another fifteen minutes and a lifetime worth of frustrated grumbling, but finally you all were out the door and on the way to the nearest bar. 

“God, fucking finally,” Roger muttered as the first round was brought to the table. “So, are you ready?” 

You nodded, though you weren’t really. You were used to friends venting to you, but this was essentially as if your bosses were using you as a temporary counselor. What should you say to certain complaints? What shouldn’t you say? Should you say anything at all, or just listen? 

“The fucking power,” John groaned. “How do you have a building that isn’t even that old, and you can’t keep the damn power on in it? I swear, the next venue that can’t keep the lights and electric on-” 

“You’ll promptly rewire their entire place?” Freddie interrupted with a smile. 

“I just might,” John sniffed. “I could.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Freddie said. “And the security! What was their problem? I mean it, does America have something against people enjoying music?” 

It took you a moment to realize the question was directed at you. “Ah. No. I mean, not exactly. But I think they worry about the crowd getting out of hand more than anything else. That’s what security at my old venue always told me, at least. Said it could be dangerous to the band.” 

“They’re mostly kids though,” Brian said. “And even the older ones I mean…so what? A bunch of people our age, how much damage are they going to do?” 

“Crowds can, when they want to,” you admitted. “There was the night a chandelier fell, one of the last nights I worked the old venue…” 

In an instant, all eyes were on you. 

“Did it fall on anyone?” Roger asked. 

“No,” you replied, sipping politely at the beer you weren’t exactly thrilled with the taste of, but were grateful for nonetheless. “They just kept climbing up to it and yanking on it, any way they could, in their excitement and want to get ‘wild’ I guess, and not five minutes after the last patron was out of the auditorium area, down it went!” 

“What a shame,” Freddie murmured. “Was it insured? I’m sure it must have been, if the venue was an older one.” 

You winced. “It was. But that policy lapsed in 1946, and our boss never re-upped it.” 

They shared your wince at that. 

“I bet I can guess who got to clean it,” Brian smiled. 

“I bet you can,” you replied. “I still have a scar to show for it, actually.” 

They leaned in as you showed off a white and not yet fading scar on your wrist. “I slipped, on my knees picking up some of the glass that had been on it. Didn’t even feel it though until I my boss came in and gave me hell about the blood on the floor.” 

“Christ,” John murmured. “He helped you clean then?” 

You chuckled. “No. He told me to finish up, and then he brought me a first aid kit, a mop, some water, and a brush for the floor so I could clean the blood!” 

“Better that you’re with us now,” Freddie said. “We won’t put you on lone chandelier clean up, or let you bleed out on a floor.” 

“Among other benefits, like this round that is on me,” Roger said as a new round was brought to the table. 

“Oh no, I can-” 

But your protests were quashed each time, with varying defenses from ‘But it’s my turn to pay anyway, Y/N,’ to ‘We pay you so it would be like you paying us to drink if you pay for these. We’ve got it.’

You didn’t mean to drink so much, and you didn’t think the band meant to either, but it was a good thing you were all able to prop each other up as you made it to the hotel. 

“Careful!” Freddie cried as you stopped first at John’s room, helping Freddie to drop him on the bed. “He’s fragile.” 

“How so?” 

“He’s the youngest,” Freddie explained. “His mum worries about him, on tour, you know. It’s all very sweet.” 

“I’m sure your mum worries about you being on tour as well,” you replied, struggling not to slur your way through the sentence. 

He waved away your words as he led you back into the hall, to retrieve Roger and Brian from where you’d leaned them against the hall wall. 

Roger managed to get into his room on his own, giving you a monster of a hug before he did. “You’re a smart man, d’you know that? That was much better than breaking shit backstage.” 

Freddie helped free you from Roger’s grasp with a giggle, before waving him off to bed. “It was a good suggestion. Only thing we had to pay for was drinks, not damages!” 

“Not sure it was any cheaper,” Brian frowned.

“That’s John’s worry, and he’s sleeping,” Freddie protested. “We’ll worry about it later.” 

“I did try to pay for some,” you noted. 

They both shushed you as you all made it to Brian’s room, helping him slouch inside and find a glass of water before wishing him a good night. 

“Where is your room again?” Freddie muttered, looking down the hall as if it might magically appear. 

“I think it’s my turn to sleep in the van tonight,” you replied. To save on costs, each crew member took a turn either sharing a hotel room with other crew members, or would sleep in the van to make it one less room to have to rent. 

“No!” Freddie scoffed. “Absolutely not, it is freezing out!” 

“It’s August,” you giggled. “It can’t be freezing in August.” 

Freddie half led, half dragged you down the hall, then up the staircase to his room. “Well, it is freezing in here, I know that much. So you can’t sleep in the van, you’ll be too cold.” 

“That doesn’t track though,” you protested weakly with a laugh. 

“Would you really rather be in the van?” Freddie asked, and there were the deep brown eyes again, locked on yours. Not as intense this time, a bit tired, probably in part from the alcohol and from the overall exhaustion of the night, but just as captivating nonetheless. 

You shook your head, and let Freddie lead you into the room. 

“Take the other bed, if you want,” Freddie said before flopping face down on the other. “No idea why they got me a room with two. Maybe it was the only one left. Worked out though, I suppose.” 

You sat on the other bed, and giggled as you watched him roll back over. 

“What? Do I look that daft right now?” 

“You look cute,” you said, before you could halt your tongue. 

Before Freddie could reply, you continued. “That was out of line, I’m sorry, maybe it’s because I’m drunk, I haven’t gotten drunk in ages, but that’s no excuse, but you are really cute, and pretty? Your eyes are gorgeous, has anyone ever said? Well, surely they have, and that’s even more out of line, and-” 

Freddie struggled to his feet, only to stumble over and sit heavily beside you on the other bed. 

“Can I ask you something? And you have to answer me honestly, and I think you will, because I think you’d tell me anything honestly right now,” Freddie said. “Are you saying all that just because…” 

His gaze dropped to the floor, and you knew what he had been going to say. Because he was famous. Because he was who he was, the Freddie Mercury. A voice gifted from the gods, and performances that electrified anyone who saw them. 

“No,” you replied. “I’d say that no matter what. Because you aren’t…” 

It was hard to put into words, especially in your current state, but you tried. “I mean. You’re you, you know?” 

Freddie nodded, and you were so glad he was just as drunk so your drunken rambling made some sense.

“But…there’s a difference. Between Freddie Mercury on stage, and Freddie greeting fans, and then Freddie here, who drinks with me and keeps me company when Crystal tricks me into stupid shit,” you continued. “And I like them all. I’ve always liked the Freddie on stage of course, who wouldn’t? And you’re incredibly kind to every fan I’ve ever seen you meet.” 

You took a deep breath as one of his hands moved to yours, his long fingers moving yours to intertwine with his. “But I like this Freddie the best, I’m finding. You’re funny, and kind, and sweet to me. And I like talking to you, a lot.” 

Freddie’s eyes met yours again, much more focused than they had been in the hall. 

The kiss was soft as his lips, and his other hand moved to gently hold your face, the thumb brushing over your cheek. 

“Does that mean we get to talk more after this?” you asked after he had moved back away, your eyes still closed as they had been for the kiss. 

They burst open as he broke into laughter, his other hand still in yours. “Is that what you’d like it to mean?” 

You nodded. “Maybe more?” 

He nodded, but hesitantly. “This isn’t like-” 

“I know,” you said, and his brow raised. 

“Not because I’ve dated a rock star before,” you clarified. “But where I’m from…boys don’t…you don’t do this, what we just did, in public much. Not every one accepts, not many at all, so to be safe, you keep it quiet. Just for you and him and anyone who you feel safe to tell.” 

He smiled. “You have no idea how nice it is not to have to worry about that. Or then again, maybe you do.” 

You let your head slump against his shoulder, and nodded. “This isn’t going to end tomorrow, will it? It isn’t just because we’re drunk? Because I mean it, every word.” 

He pulled you close and sighed happily. “No. Not ending tomorrow. It isn’t happening just because we’re drunk. I promise.” 

You hoped desperately that it was really true. It wasn’t that you wanted to doubt him, it was just that in your experience, the doubt was often necessary and correct, and in the morning there was no boy to speak of or to, already gone with the sunrise. 

“We need to sleep this off,” Freddie mumbled. “What time is it?” 

“Early,” you said, looking at the clock on the wall that read 4 A.M. “Or late, depending on how you look at it.” 

Freddie snickered as he pushed you gently back onto the bed and flopped down beside you. “Maybe both.” 

“Both,” you agreed, and wrapped an arm around him, to match the arm he had already wrapped around you, pulling you close. 

“Morning is going to hurt,” Freddie muttered before his eyes fluttered shut.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected day off (that to my knowledge, is not historically accurate to this tour, but as I mentioned previously, this is a kind of AU version of the 1978 American tour, so I’m tossing a few curve balls in as needed for the sake of the plot lol), dancing, Roger the lock-breaking artist, and napping together as some of the best intimacy in the world. A little break before we get into some more action, as the tour powers on forward.

The morning did indeed hurt, but thankfully only due to the hangover. 

The little smiles Freddie sent you, even as he winced at the glaring sun as you left the hotel, made it all the easier to bear. 

You had talked only briefly together as you got ready to leave for the day, but it had been enough time to set down ground rules and expectations: 

1\. The budding relationship would stay between you two until you both felt enough time had passed/ you were steady enough together to let the rest of the band know. Maybe that would be before the end of the tour, maybe not. You both had agreed that either way was fine, as Freddie had casually planned to help you find a flat near his home, and considering you didn’t really want to return to your hometown and hadn’t planned to once the tour was over regardless, you weren’t going to argue that. 

2\. Even after the rest of the band and crew knew, telling anyone else would be a discussed thing before it would happen, for sake of safety for both of you. 

3\. Both of you agreed it couldn’t distract from the tour, and if it started to, you would put things on pause until tour was over. Though you both agreed to this one hesitantly, and you figured it was because the idea of stopping wasn’t something either of you actually wanted. But you were professionals, and responsible ones at that, or at least were trying to be. 

The need to resist the urge to hold a boy’s hand in public wasn’t an unfamiliar one to you, but it was harder with Freddie so close. After he requested you be one of the crew members to join them in their section of the van, you figured it had to be on purpose, how he casually draped himself over you to nap at one point, leaned against you during a game of Scrabble, brushed his fingers against yours if you went to pick up your drinks at the same time. 

But, you kept yourself mindful, relegated to enjoying what little touches and contact you got. After all, there was a show to focus on. 

Until there wasn’t. 

“Stage is damaged,” the venue owner explained it after you all had rolled up to the building. “Last night’s concert was a fucking mess, and my luck, you’ll go through the damn floor with how weak it is. I’m not having you do that.” 

“We could just switch it,” Brian said. “Tomorrow was meant to be our day off, but if it could be repaired by then…” 

The venue owner had agreed to that plan, already with workers inside repairing the stage, and suddenly you were all gifted a day off. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m sleeping, or I’m going to try to,” Brian muttered as he led everyone back to the van. “God, my head…I’m getting old, I can’t drink like that anymore.” 

“Poor old man,” Roger teased. “We’ll have your cane ready by next week, think you can solo with that in your hand?” 

“Well, if I have somewhere to put it while I play, and your arse is available, then-” 

“That’s quite colorful enough,” Freddie interrupted. “Sleep might be good for all of us. We could see if the hotel can let us in a day early, maybe switch around the rooms, I don’t know.” 

None of you asked how John made that happen, once you got to the hotel (the agreed up on conclusion was money, but none of you wanted to know exactly how much extra he’d had to pay in order to get the new rooms a day early) but there were ready rooms and keys, and it was heavenly. 

You joined Freddie in his room, on the third floor of the building, with stairs that groaned as if they might give out and come crashing down just like the stage at the venue had threatened. 

“America isn’t that old, but my god does everything here sound like it’s ready to give up,” Freddie mused. “Can you imagine the bed springs?” 

“Probably still a mattress stuffed with hay,” you snickered. “Or goose feathers or something.” 

“Don’t even joke,” Freddie sighed. “It just might be.” 

The room itself seemed modern enough, with a TV and a bed that, shockingly, did not wheeze and creak when you dropped onto it with Freddie. 

There was a joke, among the crew, that the band weren’t unlike a puddle of cuddling cats when given the chance to lay and rest, especially Freddie. 

The way he snuggled against you, letting you run your fingers gently through the curls in his hair, you half expected he might start purring, and it would have been adorable if he had. 

“Don’t let me keep you if you want to go explore the city,” Freddie mumbled, his eyes still shut. 

“Nah. You’ve seen one American city, you’ve almost seen them all. One McDonald’s looks the same as another, you know?” 

His eyes fluttered open. “There’s got to be at least one city unique enough that you want to see.” 

You shrugged. “New Orleans would have been nice to explore, but we were so busy when we were there, I didn’t get any time. It was enough to at least be in it once.” 

Freddie frowned, and rolled onto his back, propping himself up with his elbows. “That certainly isn’t enough. Next time we go, you’re seeing the city properly.” 

“And what does that include?” 

“What doesn’t it?” Freddie replied. “There’s good food, good music, wonderful shops, and that’s just starting in the Quarter.” 

“Hearing the music in the streets was something else,” you admitted. It had been more than that, enchanting even, but you didn’t want to sound overly romantic or silly. 

“Then that’s what we’d go do first,” Freddie declared. “Dancing to the nearest jazz band, by the river at night. There’s almost always one band, if not more, going in the cafes by it.” 

You smiled. “That sounds fantastic, but I’ll need dance lessons before that, or you’ll end up on the next tour in a cast.” 

He shook his head. “I hardly doubt you’re that bad.” 

“I could show you, but trust me, it’s bad.” 

At that, he hopped up off of the bed, and held out his hand. “Come on then. You said you’d show me.” 

“There’s no music!” you giggled. “That won’t help matters much, but if you insist.” 

He turned and knelt to the TV, fussing with the knobs until it was on, set to what appeared to be a public access channel playing older slow fifties music. 

“It’s not jazz, but that should do for now,” Freddie said, and held his hand out again. “You’ve no excuse now, come on!” 

You took his hand and climbed off the bed, letting him set his hands so he was leading, and tried to focus on both remembering a simple waltz and not stepping on his or your own feet.

“You’re overthinking it,” Freddie said softly, leaning his head down so his forehead rested gently against yours. “You do the same thing Brian does when he’s overthinking something, and he’s almost always overthinking something.” 

“What’s that?” you asked as you tried to peek down at your feet. 

“Your jaw goes all tense, and I can practically hear your teeth grinding,” Freddie replied before moving his head back, moving your one hand to his shoulder, and using his now free hand to lightly lift up your chin so you couldn’t look down. “Don’t worry about it, don’t stare at your feet or you’ll end up tripping yourself.” 

“I have actually done that before,” you started to say, ready to tell him the story about how it had resulted in your dance partner nearly losing a tooth after tumbling face first to the floor, but he stopped you with a kiss.

It was deeper, longer than your first with him the night prior, and you didn’t really want it to stop. 

But after another moment you broke apart, only to break into giggles and smiles. 

“It’ll be better in New Orleans,” Freddie said. “Better music, for sure.” 

You nodded. “I’d be happy regardless, honestly. I’d just be happy to be out there with you.” 

His gaze was soft, but he pulled you back down onto the bed hard. “You locked the door, right?” 

“I did,” you replied. You were about to ask if you should have also put up the Do Not Disturb sign, but Freddie’s lips on yours and his thigh in between yours was the much more pressing issue in that moment. 

However, just as you’d both lost your shirts and were fussing with the buttons of your jeans, there was a knock at the door.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Ignore it. Probably nothing.” 

You tried to ignore the insistent knocking as Freddie’s lips worked their way down your neck to your chest, but it was a difficult task. 

“Oi, can you let me in?” John’s voice came through the door. “Going to have to kill Brian if you don’t.” 

Freddie sighed in frustration as he lifted his head from your shoulder where he was leaving the latest in a trail of darkening hickeys. “Could you just maim him instead? We’re busy.” 

“Doing what?” John asked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you questions?” Freddie asked right back. “Like, why do you need to kill Brian?” 

There was a beat of silence. “…got into a fight over a Scrabble game.” 

“That’s no reason to kill,” Freddie said, his eyes on the door but his hand toying with the waistband of your unbuttoned but still on jeans. “Maim, maybe. But not kill.” 

“Is that what you’re doing in there?” John tried. “Is that why you won’t let me in? Afraid I’ll break your concentration or something?” 

“…Yes,” Freddie replied after a quick look and nod to you. “Very intense game of Scrabble. Don’t want to break the ah…the mood, the rhythm of it, you understand?” 

“Suppose I can just go back and apologize for telling him to stuff the tiles down his throat,” John sighed. “Enjoy your game, but I should warn you, Rog couldn’t sleep either, so he’s playing with Brian now, and might be over here next if it goes as badly as mine.” 

“Thank you for the warning,” Freddie said, then carefully let himself collapse on top of you with a tired sigh and giggle. “For fuck’s sake.” 

You patted his back, and rocked your hips against his, earning a sharp gasp and kiss for your work. “Hard work, being the mediator of the band.” 

“Mediator, argument solver, breaker of the rare physical spats, which are really just them shoving each other and then looking at me like they’ve been slapped,” Freddie said. “We fight, but aren’t actually all that good at being mean to each other. Which you think would mean they wouldn’t need to interrupt me in the middle of more important things to solve them, and yet…” 

“John’s comment was pretty dark,” you remarked. “Though the tiles aren’t very big, I suppose. Could have told him to do a lot worse with them.” 

“Oh, I’m sure Roger will think up something creative for Brian to do with them if he loses,” Freddie chuckled. “I’m sorry, that just killed the mood, didn’t it?” 

“Not exactly,” you said, but it seemed awkward to go back at it knowing Roger would likely be by soon. “It’s okay. We have time, there’s no need to rush. I promise; I’m not going anywhere.” 

He smiled bigger than you’d seen him do before, no hand rushing to cover his teeth. “Me neither. And you’re right. But god, it would have been a nice way to spend the day. Another day soon maybe, provided I don’t have to keep playing wrangler for the boys.” 

“It’s probably partially my fault,” you admitted. “I didn’t put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.” 

“Oh, they don’t give a shit about that,” Freddie said cheerfully, laying back and gesturing for you to snuggle up against him. “Roger once broke into my room with that sign, a bobby pin, and a coin.” 

“How?” 

“He wouldn’t tell me exactly,” Freddie replied. “Something about protecting his newly discovered secret method. But he did let me know the sign was a key part of it. So he’ll read it, then promptly just use it to let himself in.” 

“What were you doing that night he broke in?” you asked, pondering typical “rock star” behavior against what you knew and expected from Freddie. 

“Nothing salacious,” Freddie laughed. “Sleeping off a headache, that was nearly gone till he came thundering in.” 

“What was so important he had to break in anyway?” you giggled. 

“Oh, nothing. He told me he wanted to check if I was awake, then he started to wonder if he could break into my room using the sign and what he had in his pocket, and then there he was!” 

“I love Roger,” you laughed. “Oh my god, I can just see him doing it, running into your room…” 

“He’s still proud of it, and really it was impressive,” Freddie said. “Just ill-timed.” 

You yawned, and he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Maybe we should try sleeping again.” 

“Can’t break up a Scrabble fight if you’re asleep,” you agreed. And if you were asked to be perfectly honest, as fantastic as it would have been to fuck, you welcomed the chance for more sleep just as much. 

And Freddie made a wonderful pillow, your head on his chest and an arm draped over his impossibly small waist, while the TV moved on to the next public access program: 

A recording of a blues and jazz group from New Orleans, the volume just loud enough for the music to help lull you to sleep, along with Freddie’s arm warm around you.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW intimacy, a concert, and the breaking of that first rule mentioned in the last chapter, because honestly, how long could you really keep a relationship secret from bandmates you’re that close to? But props to Freddie and the reader for trying! 
> 
> Also, as this is an AU, I’m letting myself mess about with dates as needed, so if you’re looking at the tour listing for this year in the US and going ‘hey what’, my apologies lol. I’ll try and make mention of what city they’re in here and there to help keep a notation on where in that tour timeline we are. 
> 
> In regards to the intimacy, I admit it was informed by my own experiences and some of my feelings, so it may not be one hundred percent one size fits all, if you will, but I tried to go as general as I could, for a FtM reader who is on T and has had top sx (I haven’t yet but dang it this fic is wish fulfillment for me too lol) but isn’t having bottom sx. Hopefully it will still read well and be interesting and good regardless, and since this is my first go at it I only hope to improve as time goes on (because I’m having fun writing this, and might well write another Freddie x trans FtM reader fic after this one is done!)

You woke to the sound of the shower running, and realized it must have been later than you anticipated. Part of you wondered what questions you might meet during the concert setup; namely, the rest of the crew asking where on earth you had spent the night. The other part of you just hoped they maybe hadn’t been paying attention or looking for you, and they wouldn’t ask at all. 

In any case, any worries evaporated as Freddie stepped back into the room, and your brain briefly and wonderfully short-circuited. 

His hair was still dripping, and aside from the towel tied around his waist, there was plenty to take in. Granted, you had seen it last night, but you didn’t think the joy of seeing him relaxed, happy, and disrobed would fade anytime soon, if ever. 

He was just so…tiny. Muscular, but lithe, with hair covering his chest (a particular favorite thing of yours that made your heart beat fast) and a happy trail you resisted the urge to trace with your eyes (that made your heart beat even faster.) 

He caught your gaze and smirked. “Going to blink, or have I broken you?” 

“I’ve been blinking,” you protested with a laugh as you finally blinked and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

“Your turn, if you can tear your eyes away,” Freddie teased before letting himself drop onto the bed, head tossed back and eyes closed as he lounged. 

“If we didn’t have a show to do, I wouldn’t,” you said. “But, considering I haven’t even checked the time…” 

“We have two hours,” Freddie said, then cackled as you shot off the bed and like a rocket into the bathroom. “I was kidding! We have three!” 

“That isn’t better!” you shouted back as you hurried to shower. “God, they must be wondering where we are.” 

“Probably just wondering what we’re up to,” Freddie shouted over the sound of the water. “And that’s none of their business, so nothing to worry about.” 

“Is it really that easy?” 

“I think it can be if we just say that it is,” Freddie replied. “And ignore any badgering they do to us for information.” 

“You make it sound really easy,” you said as you finished, grabbed the last clean towel, and wrapped it around your waist. 

You weren’t thinking about Freddie seeing you like this as you came out, only going through your racing thoughts over what needed to be done for the concert that night. They kept you occupied, even as he stood, walked over to you, and plucked delicately at the edge of your towel. 

“We have three hours.” 

That broke your focus, the feeling of his finger against your hip, working to slowly pull open your towel. 

“We should talk,” you said. “Before. I mean. I don’t…” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Freddie said. “And it wasn’t your friend’s intention, I don’t think, when he told us more of the…let’s say specifics, of your transition, to make you uncomfortable or to be out of line, he meant nothing bad by it, I promise.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief. “So you know then…I haven’t had and don’t plan on getting bottom surgery.” 

“Right,” Freddie said. “And that’s fine.” 

“Really?” you asked. It wasn’t that it was bad that he was fine with it, it was great in fact, you just hadn’t been sure how he might react or what his feelings on the matter might have been. 

“Would you be in my room, and would I be trying to get this damned thing off of you if it wasn’t?” Freddie asked as he continued to fuss with your towel. “For fuck’s sake, did you knot it? And if so, where? And how?” 

You laughed, and help push at the other side of it until it fell. 

“Are we really going to be done and ready in three hours?” you asked with a smirk as he led you back to the bed, slipping off his own towel as he did. 

“Not if we did everything I had planned,” Freddie smiled. “But we can get to some of it, at least.” 

‘Some of it’ was more kissing (and god how was he this good of a kisser? Was there anything he could do badly?), and the realization that his fingers were just as talented elsewhere as they were on the piano, enough that you finally had to grab his wrist to let him know you needed a moment. 

He grinned at that, only for it to drop as he gasped at the touch of your hand on his cock. 

“Hold on,” he reached over you to the bedside table, for a small bottle of lube that had been tossed in the drawer there discreetly (not really, you and Freddie had made pointed eye contact when he’d put it there) when you’d first settled into the room. 

“Three hours?” you giggled. “You do remember that’s all the time we have, right?” 

He set the lube beside you before pulling you in for a kiss, just as the door to the room popped open.

“Ah! I told you I could get it-” Roger waltzed in, a bobby pin and what looked to be a half-broken key in his hand. “And I am not the only one ‘getting it’ apparently. You do know what time it is, right?” 

Freddie flushed, yanking the blanket over the two of you. “We have at least two hours le-” 

“You would have that,” Brian interrupted as he walked in, covering his eyes, stumbling into the furniture as he went. “But I’m willing to bet you forgot about the difference in time zones. Did you?” 

“I did,” Roger admitted. “Bri here was the shining, annoying beacon of light that came to wake me up.” 

Brian snagged Freddie’s watch from the chair at the other side of the bed, and tossed it to Freddie. “See? Off by two hours still.” 

“So…” you started. “In other words, we need to move extremely fast and meet you in the lobby right away?” 

“Couldn’t have said it any better myself,” Brian replied. “And I still have to see if John is done yet. I mean honestly, how long does it take to do your hair, really?” 

“You? You’re the one saying that?!” Roger scoffed as he followed Brian out of the room, shutting the door behind them. 

Freddie’s head thumped down against your shoulder as he moaned in frustration. “I would say sorry, but-” 

“I should probably get used to that?” you giggled. “It’s fine, we’ll find more time later.” 

“Says the person who doesn’t have to figure how to put on trousers with this,” Freddie said, gesturing down to his half-hard cock. 

“If we had more time, I would help with it, I swear,” you said, dragging yourself out of the bed and wrangling random clothes from your bag on the floor. 

“I believe you, but we should have had that time now,” Freddie sighed. “How mad would Brian be if we…” 

“Freddie,” you scolded gently. “We’d be keeping the fans waiting more than anyone else, probably.” 

“Good point,” he muttered, climbing out of the bed with a groan. “We are getting time to ourselves though, somehow.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” you replied, waiting for him to finish dressing, only for him to stop and stare at you once he reached the zipper of his trousers.

It took a moment, then it clicked. “Really? All because I’m still standing here, you can’t…calm down enough…” 

You failed to bite back a laugh, and he cocked his head. “Why is that funny?” 

“Because we’re in a rush, and because I have never caused that reaction in anyone, ever before,” you replied. “So I’m a bit tickled, honestly, even though I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t here seeing it myself.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I hardly doubt this is the first time you’ve put someone in this…situation.” 

“If there was a time before, they should have let me know,” you said. 

His gaze softened, and he seemed to realize exactly how serious you were. “Well, then there are people who’ve been missing out. But better for me, because then I get you to myself.” 

“You do,” you agreed. “Shall I meet you down there?” 

—-

In the van, on the way to the venue, he slipped his hand into yours, hidden by the table in the van that currently held an active-but-temporarily-paused Scrabble game. 

It was hard to let go of him as you all piled out of the van, only to be met by the venue owner, swearing up a storm.

“Rats!” he practically shouted at John, who had the unfortunate position of being the first person ahead in the group. 

“You have them, or you have a plan that’s been thwarted?” John chuckled and grinned, only for it to drop as a vein in the venue owner’s head stuck out. “I take it this is a problem for our show?” 

“Well, I don’t know,” the venue owner laughed sarcastically. “I found out from the workers that in addition to damage from the last show, there’s also water damage and fucking rats, eating my stage! They’ve had a fucking rat pool party for years underneath my stage! I’m never going to fucking recover from this!” 

Everyone stopped and stared at one another. This wasn’t exactly your problem, and there was no way to give the man a solution, but there was the problem of eager fans waiting for a show.

“I’ve been turning people away since the last hour,” the venue owner said weakly. “I told them I would see about arranging refunds, or seeing if you can come back and perform at a later date, once I’ve got this bullshit fixed up. I’m so sorry.” 

Roger stepped forward. “No, it’s alright. I mean, this is bad, but if you didn’t know about all this damage until now…not much you or anyone else can do. I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

You joined the rest of the crew back near the van while the band talked business with the venue owner, impatiently waiting to see what would happen next. 

“If we get a move on now, we can be in the next city early,” one tech remarked. “Have a bit of free time again.” 

“We just got a fucking day off,” Crystal said. “If you wanted an American vacation, then this was the wrong tour to come on.” 

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?” argued the tech. “Don’t put words in my mouth just because you’re pissed about this. We’re all upset.” 

“It’s true,” you added. “This isn’t good for any of us, not the venue, not the fans.” 

“Oh, lovely. The bitch fucking the lead singer is going to preach at us,” the tech scoffed, and your heart stopped cold. 

“I-” 

Even Crystal seemed to realize it was a step too far, and held up a hand. “Hey. What any one of us decides to do with the band is our own business, yeah? As long as it doesn’t conflict or cause a problem. You guys don’t know everything I’ve gotten up to with Rog, right? Not ever fucked him, I mean, that’s not my speed, but…you get what I’m saying?” 

You all nodded, and you resisted the urge to cry, even as tears threatened to fall. If it wasn’t one thing, it would have been another. You were the new kid, taking up space, slow to learn, and fucking up their usual ways of running a tour. This was just a part of becoming a proper member of the crew, surely. 

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble to Crystal as the band started to walk back over to the van. 

“Not a problem,” Crystal replied. “Ignore them, okay? They’re just in shit moods because of this, and half of ‘em might even be jealous. Not for the fucking, I mean, but the closeness, you know? Everybody wants to have a story at the end of the day, wants to be able to say they know something special about the bands they’ve worked for.” 

“I really like him,” you said. “I’m not just with him to get ‘a story’ out of it.” 

“You’re young,” Crystal said, and sighed, then left it at that as he climbed into the van. 

Freddie didn’t ask anything when you were all in and on the road, but you could tell he wanted to ask what had happened. In equal manner, you were eager to know what agreement had been reached with the venue. If you would be returning and it would be the new last stop of the tour, you wouldn’t mind a mini vacation there with him, if he was up for it. 

And frankly, the rest of the crew could sit and spin if they had an issue with that. 

It was dark when the van finally stopped again, and you stumbled out of it only to find yourself at a truck stop. 

“We’re ahead of schedule, apparently,” Freddie yawned as he stepped out beside you. “You slept through us getting back to the hotel, so I grabbed your things. I’ve never seen you in that green top, why don’t you wear it more?” 

“Too bright to wear backstage,” you replied, thinking of the gauzy, electric-green button-up in your suitcase. You had packed it as a back-up, knowing it would likely never get worn anyway, but you would have it just in case you somehow couldn’t do laundry or ran out of everything else. 

“Fuck that,” Freddie said, then yawned again. “Wear it before a show then, when we’re on the road. That color must look lovely on you.” 

“It does, or so I’m told,” you said, and he raised a brow. 

“By my mum,” you continued dryly. “I wore it to a family event once to cause a stir. Think it was more of a stir that I showed up at all.” 

He opened his mouth, you figured to ask more about that, but Roger interrupted with a clap of his hands. 

“Use the bathroom, then get back on. We’ve got another hour to New Haven.” 

Everyone groaned in tired solidarity, and Roger laughed. “I know, I know. But we’ll get a little bit of time at the hotel, to sleep in an actual bed. That’s exciting, right?” 

“Depends on whether or not you’re going to keep breaking into my room,” Freddie answered. 

“Stop having such easily breakable locks,” Roger replied as he followed Freddie back onto the bus.

“That is hardly within my control!” you heard Freddie laugh back, and you pondered if any of the furniture in the next hotel would be movable, and would fit in front of the room door. 

If nothing else, you would try putting up the Do Not Disturb sign anyway.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A show that runs smoothly and wonderfully, sharing more about yourself and your past with Freddie, and a formal Welcome Wagon from Roger. Things are running smoothly, but there’s a bit of a stretch of travel coming up for the next chapter (10 hours, if I have my locations correct via the tour listing) and that’s a long car ride for anyone. How sane can you, the crew, and the band stay? Only time and reading the rest of the fic will tell.

“You know what I get sick of?” Freddie asked as you locked the door of the hotel room, slipping the Do Not Disturb sign onto the outside door handle.

“Hotel rooms?” 

Freddie nodded, eyes shut as he flopped back onto the bed. “You know what else?” 

“Truck stops at three in the morning, in the cold?” 

He nodded again. “But you know what I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Finally getting a few more moments alone with you,” he reached up, and yanked you down beside him onto the bed, laughing. 

“We’ve arguably had more time than we should have. If not for the problems in D.C…” 

“We’ll be coming back there, at the end of the tour,” Freddie interjected. “The fans who want a refund are getting one, the ones who still want a show no matter when have their tickets which will remain valid until we get there. Not a problem.” 

“I expected you’d be more upset,” you admitted. 

“Ah. You’ve heard tales from the crew,” Freddie said. “Some of them are true, some false, but all subject to what I imagine and in some cases, know, to be extreme exaggeration. But that’s valid of them, so long as they aren’t telling tabloids some bullshit.” 

“Yeah, they’ve told me some things,” you admitted. “But I just figured that it would upset me too, missing a show. Knowing there were fans upset, some of them maybe not willing to come to a make-up show.” 

“That is upsetting,” Freddie said. “But I don’t know. Maybe it’s you, hm? You keep me calmer than I might be otherwise.” 

“And you the same for me,” you said. 

“I can’t see you getting angry at anything,” Freddie chuckled. 

“I can,” you said as you sat up in the bed. “I just try not to be, very often. Not healthy to be angry too often, and I was angry a lot when I was younger.” 

“Why?” 

You knew he would ask, and you would have had to talk about home at some point anyway. But you regretted that it should be now, when you had only so much time before you’d be running again, to make it to the venue and give the fans the best show possible. 

“Lots of things. I was angry about the things I couldn’t figure out about myself, and how it made me feel. Angry that being different got me made fun of. Angry that even my family seemed to look on me oddly as a result. They still do, though I know they love me all the same.” 

Freddie sat up and rested his head on your shoulder. “Why should they look upon you oddly? You have a job you like, you travel, I imagine that’s got to be interesting for them to hear about.” 

“They’d rather I had a job that made more money,” you said. “I was living at home, before you hired me. Trying my best at the local venue to work my way up a ladder that didn’t even have upward rungs, because no big bands come there. I think they were just waiting for me to quit and take something soul-killing but decently paying, not for me to go on tour with a band.” 

“But you’re happy,” Freddie said. “Right?” 

“I am,” you replied. “This is wonderful, even if the crew aren’t fans of me, and if I’m not learning how all this works as fast as I’d like. I’m just happy to be out here. And incredibly happy as well, that it led me to you.” 

“Your family should want you happy,” Freddie scoffed. “How is that not their biggest concern?” 

You shrugged. This was part of the reason you didn’t often bring up your family with anyone. “They aren’t out and out mean, or anything. They just don’t understand, and it isn’t exactly what they wanted or expected for me, and neither is my job, and-” 

“But you have a job,” Freddie interrupted. “Isn’t that still something to celebrate? You could have no job.” 

“True. But there’s more than that. I mean, when I went to Europe to meet with the doctors and start treatment…they certainly didn’t expect that either, and I think it threw them all for a loop.” 

“So what if they didn’t ‘expect’ you to transition,” Freddie said with a flick of his wrist. “Fuck them, if it bothers them that much. As long as you’re happy and healthy, they shouldn’t have shit to say. Happiness can be hard work, and they don’t appreciate all the work you’ve put in to create that for yourself.” 

It was all true, but you hadn’t had anyone say it out loud to you until now, and it brought happy tears to your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you managed to choke out, and he wrapped you in a hug. 

“I didn’t mean for you to cry,” he fussed. 

“It’s happy tears,” you sobbed. “It’s a good thing.” 

“I believe you but you have to know how at odds it sounds considering how hard you’re crying,” Freddie said. 

“That’s a fair point,” you said, trying not to completely soak his shoulder in tears. “God, I’m going to look a mess by show time. But at least no one sees me backstage.” 

Freddie smiled softly, and pulled you back down with him onto the pillows before brushing tears from your eyes. “You could be out there if you wanted to.” 

“Stop it.” 

“I mean it! Not with us, maybe, if only because I think we’re already short on room with all of except Rog running about, but on your own? Why not?” Freddie asked. 

“I take it my friend told you everything they know about me, when they talked to you about where they met me, my transition, yes?” you asked back. “Because if he did, then he surely mentioned my piano playing is shit, my vocals just as bad, and my guitar-playing is non-existent. So if fans want to watch a man stand on stage and do nothing, then sure, I could be out there and have a show.” 

“I doubt any of that is as bad as you say,” Freddie replied. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, I don’t want to hear it. Maybe you got away with that back at home, but you’re in a new home now. With a new little dysfunctional family. And we jokingly shit talk each other, but never seriously about ourselves.” 

You could tell he meant it, with how tightly he held onto you, an arm wrapped around you like he meant to shield you from the world. It was nice, even if you knew there was no one and no way you could ever be protected like that. 

“Is that why you were so excited to come back to London with me?” Freddie asked quietly. “You never planned on going home at all, did you?” 

“I didn’t,” you replied. “I figured if I couldn’t make it to Europe, I would try and settle in whatever the last city on the tour was. With no way for my family to contact me…” 

“You’d be away from them and all their expectations and judgement,” Freddie finished. “Well, I’m glad you’re coming back to London with me instead. Far safer, for one, you’ll have me right nearby and a decent flat and of course you’ll retain our employment year-long.” 

“You don’t tour the entire year though,” you pointed out. 

“No, but we can always use an extra runner in the studio, or an extra person as buffer while out and about,” Freddie said. “Hell, I’ll give you every job title I can if it keeps you with us, because that’s where I want you. No other band gets a chance to steal my man.” 

You cuddled against him, absolutely beaming both at his affection and the term ‘my man.’ It felt so good to hear. 

“I’m not breaking in this time!” Roger’s voice came through the door. 

“And we aren’t nearly about to fuck this time!” Freddie called out to him. “I’ll let you in, just hang on.” 

He gave you a quick kiss before jogging to the door, shutting it again as Roger trotted in. 

“Nice to see you again, clothed,” Roger smiled as he stood near the bed. “Though I’d stop by on behalf of the rest of the band, because there were some rumblings among the crew and questions and-” 

“We’re a thing,” Freddie interrupted. “However they want to put it, I don’t really care. But they’re not to bother Y/N about it, as you can see he doesn’t let it get in the way of his work.” 

“Oh, I’m not here to stop it, just to confirm it,” Roger said. “Though Crystal said the crew was rather rude about it, and he offered his apologies on that, as do I and everyone else.” 

“What did they say?” Freddie asked, his voice cold and cutting. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you interjected. “Thank you, Roger. I figure it’s all just a part of things, with a bit extra since Freddie and I are…well. As we are. Crystal defended me, and that was really kind of him, I appreciate it greatly.” 

“What. Did. They. Say?” Freddie asked again. 

“It was just something about me preaching at them, because I agreed the situation in D.C. was frustrating for all of us, the fans included,” you said hastily. “And they mentioned they didn’t want to hear anything from me, the…well. It really doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m told the phrase ‘the bitch fucking the lead singer’ was used,” Roger said with a frown. “And that wasn’t right. I mean, so you two are fucking, but calling you a bitch was beyond unnecessary and wrong, as was getting on you for merely agreeing with everyone else. And bringing up the relationship at all, of course.” 

“We were trying to keep it quiet,” you said weakly. 

“I know, I know,” Roger said. “But that doesn’t really work, with us. We can tell when things are different with each other, and considering the last place anyone had seen you was with Freddie, and you never showed up in the van or anyone else’s room…I mean, that’s just 1+1 sort of a thing, you know?” 

You and Freddie nodded and shared a look. In truth, it hadn’t been much of ‘hiding’ so much as ‘hoping no one would notice anything despite not really hiding what was going on at all.’ 

“Anyway,” Roger continued. “Consider this a welcome to the family sort of a thing. Once for being new to the crew, and now for being with Fred. If the crew should keep getting on you, let us know. I’ve already had a word with them, but now that it’s not just an open secret, it’ll be easier to shut down any bullshit, alright?” 

You nodded, feeling somewhat bad that Roger had had to go out and play Bad Cop of sorts for you, but grateful that he was so willing to be protective. 

“Good,” Roger said. “I’ll leave you two to your last ah-” 

He peered at his watch. “Well shit. Twenty minutes, I guess. See you both in the lobby in a bit.” 

“How on earth does the time go so fast,” you muttered as Roger left, Freddie locking the door after he was gone. 

“I don’t know, but I do want to know why you didn’t tell me what they said,” Freddie said as he came back to sit beside you on the bed. 

“It was only a momentary bit of frustration and anger coming out from them at me,” you replied. “I didn’t figure it bore any mentioning, since Crystal had spoken up for me.” 

“That’s a fair point,” Freddie said. “But please, in the future, let me know if anything like that happens. I want to help address it, you understand? The job makes things like this hard enough, I won’t have my own crew making it harder, not when I’m this happy.” 

His last sentence hung on the air, as you could see in his eyes he maybe hadn’t meant to be quite that vulnerable about it. 

“I understand,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I swear.” 

“No, you weren’t,” Freddie said, taking your hand in his. “I don’t mean to come off harshly about it, I only want to ensure nothing stands in our way. Because nothing should, even though…” 

You both let the silence hang again, knowing the end of the sentence. Even though society itself would stand in the way, that even in London after the tour you would have to be careful, not to mention dealing with your families and any other friends outside of the tour. There were enough obstacles in existence. The two of you didn’t need any more. 

You dressed for the concert, still in the silence, stopping only to occasionally kiss or let your hands touch briefly. There wasn’t time for anything else, and you could do even less once you were at the venue. 

Though you couldn’t say you were unhappy to be there. It was electric, the atmosphere at their shows, even in the backstage. You hustled like you never had at the venue back home, running gear and strings and pedals and anything else the rest of the crew needed as you readied for the show, and even if they seemed gruff and irritated with you, it couldn’t shake how much fun you were having. 

Because even from the wings, it was magical watching them. Freddie had the crowd in his hand from the moment he stepped out, and it was a joy to hear the fans scream for him, for Bri, for Rog, for John. A level of adoration that you could only imagine, and how it might make the boys feel. 

About mid-way through the show, Crystal called for you. 

“Here,” he handed you a champagne flute, filled near to the brim. “Freddie will start talking in a moment, to transition over to the acoustic bit. He’s nearly out of water and everything else; we’re getting more water and a beer, but you can take this out to him.” 

“When?” you asked.

Crystal peeked out onto the stage and swore. “Now!” 

He all but pushed you out onto the stage towards Freddie, who raised a brow as you approached. 

“A surprise! The newest member of our road crew, very hard-working, absolutely gorgeous, as you can clearly see,” Freddie said to the crowd, holding his hand out to take the flute from you. “And he’s brought me champagne! How lucky am I?” 

The crowd cheered at his words, then even louder as he quickly kissed you. “He brought me champagne, he deserved a reward! I’d say that was a fitting one, wouldn’t you?” 

You prayed the crowd couldn’t see exactly how red you were blushing, and smiled at him as you jogged backstage. 

“Least he didn’t comment on the size of your cock,” one of the techs said as he watched you stumble back around the pulled-aside curtain. “That’s what I got, first time I ran a drink out to him.” 

“Ooh, or the time he talked about my ass,” another spoke up. “Though I must say, it was a really nice compliment. I’ve never thought my ass was anything to write home about, but to hear him say something nice about it…well, it was kind, even if I maybe don’t love that an entire crowd also heard it.” 

You grinned, and tried to find your tongue.

“Don’t sweat it,” Crystal laughed. “Besides, I don’t think you minded that all that much, did you? Even with the crowd watching.” 

They made a few more jokes about voyeurism as you walked back to your last station, assisting Brian’s guitar techs, and even though those made you blush even harder, you were absolutely glowing. 

He liked you enough to risk that, to kiss you like that in front of a crowd. That wasn’t something to be done lightly, and you would have to think of a way to show him just how much it meant to you, just how much you loved him for it. 

However, there wasn’t time to show him after the show. After much fussing about with the map, it was realized that you’d have to be rushing again to make it to Detroit on time. ‘Dead on Time’ had suddenly gone from song to reality, and there was no time to slow down.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 hour road trip with the boys time! New Haven to Detroit, if I have my locations correct (and god I hope I do, I spent a lot of time trying to make sure I had the most accurate tour listing from ‘78 lol.) No time to yourselves, but you and Freddie can make it work regardless, right? We get NSFW again in this bit, just a warning!
> 
> Also, Scrabble! (The reason you’re all really reading this, I’m sure lol.)

At least until you got on the van. Then, it was ‘hurry up and wait.’ 

“Makes sense,” John muttered as you all loaded up into the van, after a quick shower and retrieving your things from the hotel. “We had some extra time for once, so now the rest of the tour we’ll constantly be nearly late.”

“We’ll catch up,” Roger said patiently, staring down the Scrabble board. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying, I”m just saying,” John protested. “No sense in pretending it isn’t true.” 

“Which is not what I’m doing,” Roger said, glaring down his letters as if that would magically make them change. “What I am doing is beating our dear Mr. Mercury here at Scrabble.”

“You have to actually play another word for the game to progress, and for you to do that, Rog,” Freddie smirked. “In case you’ve forgotten how to play.” 

“Oh I know, and I’m playing,” Roger said, then proceeded to not put down a word, but frown again at the board. 

“You want help?” Brian offered, and Roger and Freddie both hissed. “Jesus, sorry. Be careful, Y/N. They’re like angry cats when they get into it.” 

“And you aren’t?” Freddie asked. 

“No, I am too, but I’m not playing right now, so I’m not the concern,” Brian replied. “And there’s literally a spot, right there, Roger, come on!” 

“I don’t see it yet, just give me a minute!” 

“This is unbearable,” Brian muttered. 

“Oh shut it,” Roger spat. “Or I’ll make you play against me next, and I’ll beat you too.” 

“Anything but that,” Brian said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I could beat you in my sleep.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Lord help us,” John muttered and shot you a look as if to say ‘I’m so sorry for all this.’ 

But you were oddly loving it. It was something most people didn’t get to see, the brotherly spats and all that. And that was exactly what this struck you as, a bunch of brothers stuck on a road trip, already getting on each other’s nerves while barely a mile from home. 

“I could play whoever wins,” you murmured. “Granted, I’ve only ever managed to beat my family members at Scrabble which isn’t saying much, but if you want a wild card…” 

All four of them looked up at you and smiled. 

“I like it,” Roger said. “Though I’ll apologize in advance for winning over both Freddie and you.” 

“Might be a little premature, don’t you think?” you asked, and they cackled. 

“He’s called your bluff!” Freddie crowed. “Come on, put something down, we’ve only got nine hours in this tin can.” 

“It isn’t that bad,” John fussed, and you couldn’t blame him. As Queen’s main financial officer, he had helped the crew pick out the van for this tour, and was understandably miffed whenever anyone made a comment about it. 

“No, it isn’t,” Freddie admitted. “Just a long drive, and that would be hell in anything. No harm meant, John.” 

John nodded, and stood to peek at Roger’s letters. “Oh, there’s no way he can win. You’ve got this.” 

“Would you stop making it harder for me to concentrate?” Roger gasped. “Jesus, all a man is trying to do is play Scrabble, and the ruddy peanut gallery can’t keep it down…” 

“Give it your all, Rog,” Crystal called from where he was laying down on some of the seats. 

“Thank you! Finally, someone believes in me,” Roger said. “That said…I don’t think I can find anything, these letters are absolute shit.” 

Everyone hit the roof at that, laughter echoing throughout the van. 

“All that talk,” Freddie shook his head. “You’ll get me next time.” 

“Yes, yes, I will,” Roger agreed. “Besides, this is more fun for me now. We get to watch you play your new boyfriend.” 

“That is a hell of a test on a relationship,” Brian said. “You sure about this, Y/N?” 

You nodded, and traded seats with Roger as Freddie cleared the board and let John take over handing out the letter tiles. “I don’t think I’ll win anyway, and this one had better not let me.” 

“I would never,” Freddie teased. “Only honorable victories and losses in this van.” 

“Good,” you smiled, and tossed down the first word you saw in your letters. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Brian laughed. “Is that the theme of this match?” 

“Not the strongest first word,” John remarked as he took down your score from the C, O, C, and K you had laid down. “But not terrible either. I’d be interested to see if you could keep this match on theme too.” 

Freddie smirked, then grinned at the shared laughter over his word. 

“Freddie, honestly,” Roger shook his head. “Cunt is almost too short a word, you two will never finish this game in ten hours if you keep up like that.” 

“Let them play,” John hushed him. 

You set down TITS and watched as they broke into laughter again. 

“What?” you asked. “Smaller than the ones I used to have, that isn’t anything ridiculous.” 

Freddie shook his head. “You’re really going to keep it on theme, aren’t you?” 

“If you will, then I will,” you replied with a smile. 

It was an odd turn on, Scrabble, and you fully realized it maybe wasn’t the game itself so much as just flexing intellectually with Freddie that was doing it, but it made it hard to sit still, to focus on the game. 

You figured Freddie was in a similar boat as he kept trying to tangle one of his legs with yours under the table, and you had a feeling you would have been in his lap had the table not been in the way, the Scrabble board tossed aside. 

“Get out, stretch your legs,” Brian said as you finally stopped at what appeared to be a completely abandoned truck stop, your game with Freddie only half over. “We’ll get back on the road in half an hour. Long enough to try and get food out of these vending machines, use the bathroom, and feel less like sardines in a can.” 

“Hey!” John cried, and you listened to him and Brian mutter on about the van as Freddie took your hand and led you into the truck stop. 

It was nicer than you’d expected from a truck stop, with individual, walled off showering sections with locking doors. You had just a moment to admire them as Freddie pulled you into one, locked the door behind you, and damn near tackled you with a kiss. 

“God that was unbearable,” Freddie muttered in between kisses. “I was praying we’d finally stop.” 

You wanted to tell him ‘me too’ but instead nipped at his neck gently, making him gasp and whine. 

“What if they come in here?” you managed after a moment, as Freddie’s hand undid the button and zipper on your jeans and slipped into your underwear. 

“Then we tell them to either enjoy the show or get out,” Freddie replied with a smirk, before doing his magic again with his fingers. One inside of you, while his thumb gently worked at your clit, grown bigger from the testosterone. Maybe it was just that it was him, or that his fingers were wonderfully long and talented in general, but the combination left you struggling to stand upright against the wall of the shower. 

Being quiet while he worked was also nearly impossible, and you pressed your mouth against his shoulder so you could moan and be relatively unheard, at least in theory. He seemed to like that even more, rutting his hard cock, still trapped in his trousers, against your hip, moving in time with how he moved his hand against you and inside. 

You could feel all that lithe muscle you’d admired before working to hold you up as you came and your knees buckled underneath you. You tried to keep yourself upright, only to finally let yourself fall, grateful he’d already slipped his hand back out of your underwear. 

“No, what are you doing, get up,” he whispered, hands reaching to help you up. 

You shook your head, and popped open your mouth instead, tongue stuck out, and waited to see if he’d get the message. 

“That is absolutely obscene,” he breathed softly. “Are you sure, I mean, you don’t have to-” 

You nodded, and reached for the zipper of his trousers. “I want to. I mean, I’ve never actually done this before, so forgive me any mistakes, and give me feedback; I at least know you don’t use teeth-” 

He interrupted you with a barely cut off laugh as he covered his mouth. “Christ. Not that you haven’t done it before, that’s not why I’m laughing. The teeth bit, that was it, but at the same time, I’m glad you know that.” 

You giggled despite your nerves, and started to reach for his underwear, only for him to stop your hand. 

“We should be doing this somewhere nicer. For your first time, I mean,” he said. “With more time. I don’t want you to have to rush and hate doing this as a result or something, I mean your first time sets the standard.” 

He pulled you to your feet, then pulled you close to him by your hips, and kissed you softly. 

“Well, we’re not leaving here if you don’t get to come too,” you murmured in between his kisses. “What a concert hold up announcement that would be.” 

He only smiled, and didn’t stop you as your hand moved to his cock, stroking him gently through his underwear. 

“Is that okay?” you asked. “For here, at least. For now.” 

He nodded, letting his head drop onto your shoulder, his hips rutting up to meet your hand as you palmed his cock, your thumb moving over the head slowly. 

You could hear Brian shouting something outside, and realized you were running out of time, if you weren’t out completely already. 

“If this is too much, or bad or whatever, just say, and I’ll stop,” you whispered into Freddie’s ear, stroking more vigorously, letting your own hips move against his. His last reaction to your teeth at his neck had been good, and this one was even better, as you nipped just hard enough to make him hiss in your ear at the sensation. 

Before you could nip again, you felt his cock pulse, and it was your turn to hold him up as he came, groaning into your neck as he did. 

“For fuck’s sake, wherever you two are, hurry up! We can’t leave you behind, but we can threaten to!” Brian’s voice echoed into the showers. 

Freddie raised his head, only for the two of you to break into giggles. 

“We’re in trouble,” he laughed. 

“I think we are,” you agreed. “We pissed off Dad. Two kids, out running around, making out in public-” 

“Little bit more than that,” Freddie interrupted with a smile and a kiss. 

“True,” you said. “Are you okay to go back out there? I mean, we didn’t really think this through in terms of your trousers.” 

“It’s dark,” he said. “It’ll be fine. And even if they do see…they probably guessed where we were, what we were up to. So let them see, because they won’t give a fuck, so why should we?” 

If anyone did give a fuck, they didn’t say it as you and Freddie joined them back in the van, settling onto one of the back seats, lounging against each other, content and tired. 

The Scrabble game had been forgotten, but you didn’t mind. There were plenty of cities yet, and more than enough time to start another. In the meantime, you were happy to lay in Freddie’s lap, watching with him as Brian and Roger swore at each other over a match. 

There were still at least six hours, and you hoped there might be another truck stop along the way.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of sweet sleepy Freddie, one great Detroit show, and one not so much, and a new job for the reader (unofficially, but still, a new job title is a new additional job title!) 
> 
> Drunken antics coming up after this, because of course they’re going to have a bit of fun trying to lighten up after a shit show. Look out for that in the next chapter, and for now, enjoy this slightly calmer one!

A finished 10 hour drive and one successful show later, and Freddie was peacefully snoring in your arms in the latest hotel. They would play another show at the same venue tomorrow night, and for now they all needed rest. 

Freddie, especially. You had slept on and off during the drive to Detroit, but each time you’d woken up he was always somehow still awake, talking with one of the guys or the crew, or playing with your short hair, running his fingers through it slowly. You had no idea how he’d managed to stay awake like that, but he was certainly paying the price now. 

He didn’t move an inch as you left the bed to turn on the TV, and only made the lightest of sounds at the loudness of the show playing before you could turn down the volume. 

You could almost pretend it was normal. That you weren’t on tour, just in a poorly decorated room in a house together, resting after a night out. There was a coffee maker that made terrible coffee, but you made enough for both of you regardless, watching him sleep while it brewed. The TV droned some random local news network, and it was wonderfully comfortable. 

There was a knock at the door a few hours later, too delicate to have been Roger. 

Sure enough, there stood Brian instead, with John behind him. “We were going out for a bit, before heading over to the venue to rehearse. Thought we’d see if the two lovebirds want to come with.” 

You gestured to the bed. “Someone’s still sleeping, so probably not. But I can make sure he’s up and ready and to the venue for rehearsal.” 

They nodded. 

“Three hours from now,” John said. “Not a long rehearsal either, only a quick run and then he can come back and sleep more if he wants, make sure he knows.” 

“I’ll let him know,” you replied, and shut the door as they walked away. 

You thought maybe that would have roused him, but he had only rolled over and promptly knocked out again. 

You were tempted to wake him, for a moment, to let him know, but it was hard to when he looked so peaceful. Instead, you rubbed his back and waited until his eyes fluttered open on their own. 

“What time is it?” 

“You have rehearsal in-” you checked your watch. “About two hours now. John said it’ll be quick. But I’m to make sure you make it there.” 

He dropped his face into the pillow and sighed. “But it’s the same thing we did last night.” 

“I know, but they requested…” 

“I’m requesting another day off,” he grumbled. 

“There’s one scheduled after Kalamazoo,” you reminded him. 

“That we don’t have to spend traveling,” he continued. 

“Ah. Well…maybe there’ll be another stage full of rats and water damage?” 

He sighed and flopped onto his back, gesturing for you to come close. 

“I don’t think this is helping you get ready for rehearsal,” you said as you snuggled up against him. 

“It is, very much so,” he protested, and you looked up only to find his eyes closed again. 

“In fact, I think you’re just trying to pull me down for a shared nap.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he smiled, bringing his other hand to cover your eyes. “But let’s pretend that was it, and maybe just pretend we both fell asleep and so you couldn’t wake me, hm?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He nodded. “It wears on a person fast, this routine. I’m not one to layabout constantly or anything, but Christ. There’s never a chance to breathe, not for long, at least. When I’m old, we’ll have to slow this down. Or do less dates, or have more breaks, or something.”

“And what will ‘old’ be for you?” 

“Thirty-five,” he mused. “Think the boys will go for that?” 

“That’s not old,” you laughed. “I think you could convince them of that by sixty, maybe, but even then, you guys don’t seem the type to slow down for much of anything.” 

He nodded. “That’s true. And just watch, I say that I want it slowed down, and then I’d be miserable that way. It’s just the nature of the beast, of touring. Never quite comfortable, never quite happy, never quite enough time to stop and relax.” 

He paused. “Well, except for the happy bit, this time. I’m plenty happy, with you, though I do wish we could actually go out and see these cities more.” 

“Could always come back, off tour,” you replied. “Take our time, only go to the cities we’re really interested in, rather than what’s on the roster.” 

“That would be nice,” he said. “I still have to get up, don’t I?” 

“I’m so sorry, but yeah. Otherwise I’ll have Brian and John after me,” you answered. 

“We can’t have that. One or the other maybe, but not both,” Freddie murmured as he struggled out of the bed, yawning the entire time, stretching like a cat after a good nap, enough that you could hear his back crack. “You stay here and rest, if you can. I doubt there’s anything you’ll need to do until show time.” 

“I don’t mind coming with. Besides, Crystal and the guys keep bugging me to sort of practice the routines back stage, getting more used to where certain supplies are kept.” 

He turned and frowned. “In what world are you doing so badly, exactly? I mean, have we been going to different shows, or something? Because I can tell when the crew is off, and nothing has seemed off at all.” 

You shrugged. “They want to put me through the paces, and that’s fair.” 

His frown didn’t disappear, and strengthened as he walked to the coffee pot. “What is this?” 

“Supposed to be coffee, but having drank it, I don’t think that’s what it is,” you said. “Sludge from a long gone era? Might be fossils in it somewhere, could be worth something.” 

“If that’s the case, they must surely be irradiated,” Freddie sniffed. “I’ll forgo this, I think.” 

“That is probably the best decision to make about it,” you agreed. “I’m sort of afraid I may have poisoned myself drinking it, quite frankly. If I drop dead tomorrow-” 

“Sue the hotel, the coffee maker company, and the company that produced the coffee beans,” Freddie interrupted. “Got it.” 

“I was going to say make sure I have a decent funeral and a cremation, but sure, that too,” you giggled. 

He shook his head and laughed as he got ready, wrangling random bits of clothing from his bag and doing what all of you had been doing (sniffing each article, trying desperately to remember the last day you’d hit a laundromat, and finally giving up and just putting it on and hoping for the best.) 

“You could look excited,” you teased as you locked the room and followed Freddie down the hall. 

“I am excited,” he said. “I don’t look it?” 

“You look tired,” you said softly, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around his waist. “John did say you could come back and sleep some more, after the run through.” 

He waved away the idea. “If I’m up, I’m up. May as well just stay at the venue at that point.”

“True,” you agreed, as you knew you would likely do the same yourself. 

–

“You’ve got to be faster!” the tech scolded you. “At least a little bit. What if Brian was onstage now, and needed that string replaced?” 

“I’m going as quick as I can without making a bunch of noise,” you protested. You’d been copying the quick but quiet walk that the rest of the crew seemed to have mastered, and you didn’t think you were going any slower than any of them. 

The tech threw up his hands. “Fine. Just try and be faster, if you can, alright?” 

“Of course,” you replied, and walked back towards the edge of the backstage area as he waved you off. 

Rehearsal had quickly devolved into the boys hanging out together, and it was one of the sweetest things you’d seen. Aside from sleeping on the van, you weren’t sure you’d seen them more relaxed before. 

“I know you probably know nothing about drums,” Crystal said, suddenly behind you, and you jumped a foot.

He chuckled. “Sorry. Anyway, I know you probably need some training on that, actually, I can tell-” 

You were getting more than a bit sick of the presumptions. As it happened, you had been one of the go-to staff for assisting drum techs at the venue back home, but apparently none of that mattered here, and all your previous knowledge was erased. 

“Oh, no,” you said sarcastically. “I’ll just be stopping at KFC to get Roger his drumsticks for the night.” 

There was a beat, and you couldn’t tell what Crystal would do next. 

He broke out laughing, and the tension thankfully fell. 

“Fucking hell. Fine then, maybe we aren’t training you from the ground up. But we’ve had some issues the last few nights and I need an extra pair of hands right by me. Can I count on you?” 

“You can,” you said confidently. “I’ll even still go get everyone KFC if you want.” 

He smiled, and shook his head. “I should warn the rest. Hanging out with Fred is sharpening you up, making you snappy. Soon we won’t be able to tease you at all.” 

You smiled, but inside you were grimacing. If all they saw you as was the office punching bag, then you weren’t having it, at least not anymore. You were trying to pull your weight, what more could they ask of you?

“Y/N!” Roger came dodging behind the curtain. “We’re going out exploring a bit more, and the crew is invited. Are you all ready?” 

“Rog,” Crystal scolded. “We really ought to stay here, finish up.” 

“Everything basically is finished, they haven’t had any shows in between us,” Roger protested. 

But Crystal laid a hand on your shoulder, pulling you his direction. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get to work. I’ll show you what the latest trouble spots are, so you’re ready to help me fix them during the show.” 

“You’re no fun!” Roger called, but he smiled as he said it, before dashing back out onstage. 

“Fun we may not be, but we help keep it all running,” Crystal said. “Don’t forget that, Y/N. There’s plenty of fun and games to be had, but the job comes first, fun and stories to tell later second.” 

You nodded, having a feeling he wasn’t pleased at how you’d been attached to Freddie whenever you weren’t working. But Freddie was, essentially, one of your bosses, and he hadn’t expressed any issue with it. Nor had the rest of the band, for that matter. Just the crew seemed to take issue with it, and it made you wonder why Crystal had defended you at all before. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Crystal smiled. “Tonight is going to be a good one, I can just tell. Maybe we’ll get by with less problems and more smooth running.” 

“I didn’t even notice that the last few nights had any problems,” you admitted. “Everything seemed just fine.” 

“Ah,” Crystal said. “That’s because you’re green yet. You’re used to one venue, one sound system, one same everything. And you haven’t gotten your ears pessimistic enough; once you do you can hear any teeny tiny mistake from a mile away. And half the time, hearing it makes you want to be a mile away. But you’ve got to own the fuck ups, and try and fix them as best you can.” 

“Is that advice only for concerts, or for life?” 

“Yes,” Crystal replied. “Now, let’s go over where everything is, just once more for safety’s sake…” 

–

“Y/N!” Crystal sounded desperate, and you could barely hear him from where he was hidden underneath Roger’s seat, trying to replace something, you weren’t entirely sure what at this point, since there wasn’t much that hadn’t been replaced already. 

That was because it seemed like Roger’s entire kit was working actively to fall apart and off itself, and it was starting to drive all of you mad. From the first song in, there had been one thing or another, and now, as you saw when you ran up to them, a cymbal had somehow come tumbling off.

“How in the fuck?” you muttered as you tried to get it back on, fumbling on the floor for the rivet that was supposed to help hold it in place. 

“I don’t know,” Roger sighed. “Thank you, though.” 

They’d cut his mic, and thankfully moved the lights off of him while you worked, but you were sure the crowd was noticing the change in sound. Even working as fast as you could wasn’t enough. 

Finally, it seemed held together, and you and Crystal dipped backstage. You watched carefully as Roger smacked the cymbal that had gone rogue, and let yourself breathe as it held on. 

“I jinxed us, apparently,” Crystal murmured as he gestured you to follow him. “Should never have said it would be a good night, I guess.” 

“No, sometimes things just go wrong,” you said. “As long as Roger doesn’t start falling apart next, we’ll be fine. Unless you have hidden replacement parts for him somewhere too.” 

Crystal bit back a laugh. “Good point, and no, I don’t. But plenty is gonna be falling apart once they get backstage.” 

He wasn’t wrong either. The band made it backstage before you did, and the green room was…well.

It was destroyed. 

You’d heard tales of what Queen and really any band could do after a rough show, but this was a lot. Mirrors were busted, there was somehow a tear in the couch against the wall, chairs flung across the room, a few makeup palettes had been tossed and broken against the wall, the food table had its contents shoved down it (to the end with a trash can sitting there, at least), and they were all sat in the wreckage, fuming. 

You didn’t say a word as you started to clean up the bits and pieces of the room, making note of each broken item as you had been trained, so you could figure out how much the band would have to payout to the venue to replace things. 

Not one of them said a word, but Freddie was suddenly by you, and grabbed you by the wrist. 

He was gentle as he led you to the hall by the green room, but he flopped into your arms hard enough you had to actively catch him. 

“Hey,” you said softly. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” he muttered. “That was horrid. If I had my way, we’d never play here again, what an absolute embarrassment.” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

He leaned off of you and nodded, still holding onto your hands, thumbs rubbing at the palms. 

“Before I worked at the venue, and even now, there’s still so much I don’t know about a rock show. So I can’t hear the mistakes, or catch them. You guys can, because you’re professionals, this is all you do, all day, every day, most days. Crystal said eventually I’ll get that way too,” you said. “But for now? I can guarantee that most, if not all, of that crowd are the same as me. They couldn’t hear it, and if they could? Hell, they might have thought you were just doing something experimental. It’s easy to beat yourself up over a bad show, but don’t be too hard on yourselves, okay?” 

He sighed. “Can we hire you as band therapist?” 

“I’m not accredited, I’ve got a Bachelors in the Arts for Christ’s sake,” you joked. “But sure, if you want.” 

“I mean it,” he mumbled as he let his head rest again on your shoulder. It was slightly ridiculous, tall as he was compared to you, but it was sweet all the same. It was wonderful to see that he apparently felt that safe with you. “You get another title, Band Therapist. You can come talk sense into us after bad shows.” 

“Is that your way of saying we’re getting drinks again, and you want me to soothe everyone else too?” 

He nodded, and brought himself back up off of you. “I should go change.” 

You patted his back, and made sure he made it into the green room before searching for Crystal to give him the list of damages.

You might have been band therapist, but you certainly weren’t an accountant for the band, and for that you were grateful, especially now.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I seriously include the song this fic is named for in the fic? Of course I did lol. Part of this fic is self-indulgence, another bit is wanting to write good fic y’all will enjoy, and the other part is getting more people to listen to Sam Cooke. 
> 
> Also, much like Freddie, I’m a gay who can’t drive. I’ve had a few lessons on an automatic, was too terrified to learn stick at all, so if the driving in this chapter is questionable…yeah. There’s a reason I made description in that section brief lol. In my defense, Freddie is also involved in that portion, so this is the blind leading the blind here, but doing their best. Points if you notice the real life driving mistake I made when I had lessons that I included in this fic!

“Come dance!” Freddie, usually shy in public, was officially drunk enough to be less shy, and it was adorable. 

Until now.

“I don’t dance,” you insisted. “I’m content to watch you lot go.” 

“You said you like Sam Cooke,” he protested, pointing at the jukebox, which at this bar held almost exclusively ‘50s and ‘60s sock bop sounding pop music. “That’s what’s playing, and what we have queued up. Come on, let yourself have some fun!” 

Blessedly, it switched to a slower favorite of yours, You Send Me, as Freddie pulled you out of your seat. This, you knew you could manage. 

And with no one there aside from the bar staff, the band, and the crew, you could actually enjoy it, letting your arms wrap around Freddie to hold him close while you swayed. It maybe wasn’t ‘dancing’ exactly, but it was lovely, and his smile was well worth it. 

“I bet you can sing this well,” Freddie mumbled. “I want you to sing it for me. Go on.” 

“Freddie,” you blushed. “Maybe later.” 

“Later,” he nodded. “Fine. In the next hotel room, you’re going to sing for me.” 

You shook your head and laughed. “Sure. If we’re both awake by then.” 

Even though you were refraining from drinking more than a sip of whatever Freddie was having, you figured you would still be exhausted from running about with them. They were fun, but energetic fun, more than you were used to from working the same venue each night. 

The crew fell away from their professional personas as well, and you chuckled as you drifted with the group to the next bar, one arm holding Freddie close and mostly upright, the other tugging John in line, as he would turn to look at whatever caught his eye as you went down the road, and would occasionally forget to continue walking as he did. 

Crystal and Roger were mostly holding each other up, and Brian was trying to tally exactly how much each of you had already had to drink, in what seemed to be an attempt to ensure no one got any drunker. Adorably, he kept getting distracted by the sky, desperately working to point out various stars and constellations to whoever was closest to him, disparaging the brightness of the city lights that made them hard to see. 

You could only compare it to kittens, or puppies, let loose in a yard for the first time. Interested in everything, with unsteady legs, barely able to recall exactly what their original goal in moving was.

Somehow, the next bar still agreed to serve you all, though you again found yourself not wanting to drink much at all. It was more fun watching everyone else get sloshed, the playful barking at each other over the drinking competitions that started over already half-drunk pints of beer. Besides that, someone would need to have most of their mind present to get everyone back to the van. 

The idea was to drive right away, and make the two or so hours to Kalamazoo so everyone could rest before the show. However, the more everyone partied, the more you wondered if that was an achievable goal. 

Sure enough, getting them back to the van was chore enough. 

“I’m not ready for the van,” John mumbled. “I hate that thing.” 

“You helped pick it out,” you giggled. 

He was draped over your shoulder, feet stumbling along, trying to hold hands with Freddie behind your back. “I know. It was cheapest, and safest, but it’s so ugly. You know, you know, it won’t even be the booze that makes me sick, it’ll be the interior of it.” 

“It’ll be the booze for me,” Freddie said cheerfully, before patting you on the back and stumbling to the nearest trash can on the corner. It sounded painful, but he grinned even as he stumbled back. “No more for me. Too much, much too much already. That’s a funny word, much…” 

John groaned as Freddie continued to rhapsodize about the word ‘much’, and you focused on keeping them both walking. 

Granted, the trail you were following was an odd one, with Brian and Roger and the crew leaning on each other just ahead of you, laughing and walking in anything but a straight line. More importantly, you didn’t recognize anything around you.

“Lads?” you asked.

No response, everyone was in their own little world.

“Guys?” 

Nothing, but Freddie let his face fall against your neck and mumbled something that sounded like “What?” 

“Are we going the wrong way?” 

Brian was the one to stop dead, so fast that Roger smacked straight into his back. “This isn’t where the van is.” 

“No,” you said slowly. “I think it’s back the way we came. I think, at least.” 

Had Brian been sober, you figured he would have led the charge back the other way. But drunk Brian was easier to panic, and panic he did, dropping to sit on the nearest curb. 

“How’re we going to get back? I don’t know where we are, and if you don’t know where we are,” he threw up his arms in apparent frustration. “Then we’re done for.” 

“I don’t know about that,” you said, and tried to swing John and Freddie with you to a payphone on the other side of the road. “How about I call the driver, hm? Maybe he can just drive and find us.” 

“Y’mean me?” the crew member that usually drove popped out from behind Crystal, nearly tripping as he did. 

“Oh for pity’s sake,” you muttered. “Did you all forget we have to drive to Kalamazoo before the morning?” 

Mentioning the next city’s name was a mistake, because it utterly destroyed them. 

“What a stupid fucking name,” Roger laughed, slipping to sit down by Brian. “Like kazoo. Or harmonica. I’m going to name a city Timpani.” 

“You’re going to buy a city just for that?” Brian asked. 

Roger shrugged. “What better reason to buy one?” 

“Property taxes,” John said decisively, earning another round of laughter, but as far as you could tell he was deadly serious. 

“Okay,” you said. “I technically have a license. I’ve never driven a van, or much at all, but I can do this.” 

Only Freddie seemed to glom onto what you were going to do. “Are you going to leave us here, and go get it?” 

“Don’t have a lot of other choice, love,” you replied, and helped him and John to the curb. “Just stay put, make sure no one is sick all over themselves, and soon enough we’ll have you on the van, alright?” 

“I should come with you,” Freddie insisted, struggling to his feet. “I’ve only had…I didn’t count the drinks, but that’s fine. You can drive, I’ll just help you drive well.” 

“Freddie, you don’t know how to drive at all!” Roger called. 

“Well, technically I don’t either,” you admitted. “I mean, my granddad bribed the instructor to pass me…and I have been in a car, behind the wheel before…for an afternoon, at least…” 

You looked down at the sensation of John’s hand on your leg. 

“I believe in you,” he said, again so serious you would have thought this matter was life-or-death. “Bring us our ugly fucking van.” 

“It isn’t that bad, John,” you sighed. “You’ve got to forgive yourself for that, my man. You really do.” 

You left them then, Freddie stumbling along beside you, and pondered exactly how different a van might be compared to a car, and hoped to god it wasn’t a stick. 

“Driving is overrated,” he mumbled as you took him by the arm, keeping him close so he wouldn’t get lost in the small crowds on the sidewalk. “But flying is expensive. How do people get around in this country?” 

“You drive, or you find the money to fly, or you hope there’s a train or subway in your area,” you replied. “Or in my case, you walk when you can, and are incredibly thankful and kind to those who provide you with rides when you need them.” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “That’s why your thighs are so big. I mean I like that, that they are. But it’s the walking. Lots of muscle. Good thighs, those. I wish we had a hotel room tonight, so I could appreciate them properly.” 

You blushed, grateful that the people out and about didn’t seem to give a shit about the two of you wandering, and Freddie speaking less than quietly, though you didn’t think he was aware of that in his current state. “Maybe once you’ve sobered up, hm? If we make it to Kalamazoo on time, and all.” 

He nodded, only to suddenly dash away from you as you approached the venue, lurching towards the van. 

“Please be careful!” you called, patting yourself down for the van keys. 

The keys that were not in any of your pockets. 

Because they were with the driver, back many streets away. 

“Freddie,” you said softly as you watched him struggle with the van door. “Have you ever picked a lock?” 

—-

“We owe Roger one,” Freddie sighed as you finally clambered into the van. “I’ve never been so glad he liked breaking into my hotel rooms.” 

Roger’s method, at least part of it taught to Freddie, had been enough to crack the lock and let you in. As a bonus, it has also sobered Freddie up a decent amount. 

He settled into the passenger seat and watched you sit behind the wheel. “So. You have driven before, at least once?” 

You nodded. “It didn’t go great, but I have.” 

He nodded slowly, matching your nods, as if that would somehow make the van go on its own, as the two of you stared at the steering wheel. “By didn’t go great…” 

“I was supposed to do a three point turn on a really narrow dirt road, and sort of ended up more in the ditch than on the road. My granddad had to help me get it back on the road, yelling the whole time, it was horrid, honestly.” 

“Can sort of see why you don’t drive more, knowing that,” Freddie said. “But you’ve got this.” 

You sighed, and then realized that, without the keys, the van would not go anywhere. “Oh fucking hell.” 

Freddie fumbled with the glove compartment, and tossed an extra set of keys to you. “Thank god we paid extra for those. Never thought we’d need them, but here we are.” 

Getting out of the lot was easy enough; it was a big open area with no other vehicles in it at the time. 

Detroit traffic, however, was a different beast. 

“I literally would kill to be doing anything else,” you muttered. 

“As long as it isn’t me you would kill,” Freddie chuckled. “But I get it, this is…not great. Let’s not say bad.” 

But it was bad. You crept forward as much as you could manage, only to get not a single spot you were fast enough to drive into so you could join the traffic. 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Freddie said gently. “I don’t know that this is really right, but next time you see an opening, just gun it? I suppose?” 

“Anything is better than sitting here,” you replied, and the next chance you got, you took. 

Thankfully, it seemed Detroit drivers weren’t unused to sloppy driving. Sure, ninety percent of them were flipping you off, but you were in your lane, obeying the speed limit, and braking with enough room (maybe too much, at a few stops, but you preferred that to accidentally hitting anyone.) 

Even so, you had to nearly ask Freddie to pry your white-knuckled hands off the steering wheel once you’d reached the rest of your group and parked in the lot of the bar nearest to them. 

“Are you good to drive?” you asked the driver as he led the rest over. 

“Sure,” he replied, while you watched everyone else make their way into the van. 

“No, really,” you said. “Traffic is terrible here, if you aren’t sober enough, then we need to wait.” 

He muttered something under his breath, too low for you to hear, but nodded. “Fine. We’ll be close on time, but we’ll see if we can sleep it off here for a bit.” 

You headed for the van, only to dash away as John came running back out of it, making it a good few feet away before he lost his stomach over the pavement. 

“I told you it would be the interior,” he said, as he tried to wave away your hands. 

“Let me at least help you up,” you insisted, and it was a relief when he let you grab him and carefully pull him up. You managed a quick wave to Freddie, who watched as you helped John back onto the van. 

He looked tired, and like the beginnings of a hangover were starting to claw at him, but he smiled as he looked on, and that made the whole situation better. 

Though you were still incredibly glad you wouldn’t have to drive the van to Kalamazoo yourself. The streets of Detroit had been more than enough, thank you very much.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to full blown smut in this one, so a big NSFW warning on that. Also, as a result, this chapter is longer than I expected lol. But I think it’s worth it, and hopefully y’all will think so too!

“Ugh,” Brian muttered, and it was a universal feeling in the van. 

You’d finally started on the road to Kalamazoo, later than anyone had wanted, but in enough time that the estimate was you’d at least be able to drop your things off at the hotel, and maybe rest for a few hours before needing to head to the venue. 

However, as hung over as most of you were, that still wasn’t ideal, and everyone knew it. 

For that matter, most were still asleep, including Freddie and John, slumped against Brian on each side. Roger was sitting up, and pretending to be awake, with his sunglasses on. But each bump in the highway made his head jerk, and you felt bad for him. Sleeping with interruptions like that wasn’t sleep at all, really. 

Speaking of, you hadn’t slept much at all. Worry over the boys or the crew being sick while they slept and choking was a real one for you, and so even when your eyes had managed to close, they’d almost immediately popped back open in fear that in that split second, something terrible had happened. 

Nothing had, of course, but it meant that even though you were lucky enough to be without a hangover, you were still horrendously in need of sleep. 

“Water?” you asked instead, holding up the not in-expensive bottles of Perrier water, hidden in a cooler by one of the backseats. “I have meds too, for headaches…I know I need some, if anyone else does, let me know.” 

You played nurse the rest of the way to Kalamazoo, finally getting Roger to actually lay down on your lap for the last few miles as well. It wasn’t much, but anything you could do to help made you feel better. 

You wondered what the hotel staff must think of you, as you all slogged inside and upstairs to your rooms. It wasn’t a great look, that much was certain, but you tried to soothe yourself by hoping they’d seen their fair share of hung over musicians who looked not unlike death warmed over. 

Freddie dropped onto the hotel bed hard enough that it sounded painful, but you couldn’t resist from joining him as you let your bag fall to the floor. 

“We should set an alarm,” he mumbled, but made no move to reach for the alarm clock on the end table. 

In his defense, in your current state, the end table might as well have been miles away. Which was why it took you a good ten minutes to finally crawl up the bed to reach it, and set an alarm for four hours from then. 

Freddie flipped onto his back with a thud, and you giggled. 

“Your sunglasses are still on.” 

“That’s fine,” he said. “It’s bright in here.” 

“You poor thing,” you teased sweetly, willing yourself off the bed to shut the blinds on the window near Freddie’s side of the bed. “Better?” 

He took his sunglasses off, letting you take them and set them on the table. “Much. Thank you. Now, you come settle down and sleep.” 

“I’m fine,” you lied. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep, just that you were terrified of sleeping through the alarm. It would be easier to doze now, sitting up maybe to keep from sleeping too deeply. You could sleep on the day off, if anything. 

“Absolutely you are not,” Freddie said, and patted the bed. “Come on. No arguing.” 

“Or what?” you asked cheekily.

He promptly pushed himself up to standing, grabbed a hold of you, and dragged you with him as he dropped back onto the bed. “That!” 

It was hard to resist. His arms were warm, and the bed was soft, and you were exhausted. 

“Let yourself rest,” he murmured. “That’s me speaking as your boss, not just your boyfriend. Can’t have a good show if you’re so tired you can barely work.” 

“That’s a good point,” you yawned, as you snuggled into his arms. “You’ll make sure we get up on time.” 

“We have an alarm,” he said. “It’ll be fine.” 

“What if we sleep through it?” 

“We have a Brian,” Freddie answered. “He’s good about keeping the time. Most of the time.” 

“And if he isn’t good about it today?” 

“Roger,” Freddie said resolutely. “And then John, if Roger sleeps through the time as well.” 

“Are you just going to keep listing people until you’re out of crew to wake each other up?” 

“Ah, my secret revealed,” Freddie smiled. “Hush. Sleep. I know what you’re doing.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, and tried and failed to bite back a grin. 

“Yes, you know exactly what you’re doing too,” Freddie laughed. “You’re keeping yourself awake, and me in the process. Don’t worry about it; I promise we will be right on time for everything. Relax, for a bit. Nothing bad will come of it.” 

You sighed, and tried to listen. 

You really did, but it was too hard not to twist about and look to the clock to check the time. And every time you tried to keep your eyes shut, they seemed to force themselves back open immediately. 

Freddie gently placed his hand over your eyes, and kissed your forehead so sweetly and softly it absolutely melted you. It took a moment to realize he was humming Let It Be, just loudly enough for you to hear, for you to feel the thrumming of his voice in his chest, and you melted even more. 

It was easier then, to relax into his arms, to let your eyes close. Just to rest them, if nothing else. 

—-

“Up you get, darling,” Freddie’s voice was quiet, and it seemed he hated to wake you. “Went fast, didn’t it?” 

You nodded groggily. “I didn’t even hear the alarm go off.” 

“Oh no, you heard it,” Freddie giggled. “Oh, I wish you could have seen yourself. You crawled up and batted it to the floor, fastest I think I’ve ever seen you move! Mind, that didn’t turn it off, I did that, but it was kind of you to try.” 

You dropped your head into your hands as you sat up. “Sorry.” 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Freddie said, tossing your bag to you. “I know, I’m not recovered enough either, but the sooner we give the uh…whatever you call people in this city, a good show, the sooner we can sleep more!” 

“Kalamazooian?” you guessed. “I feel like there’s not an ideal thing to call them.” 

“Maybe not,” Freddie agreed. “But they deserve a good show regardless, so up!” 

“Is this what I’m like, when I’m trying to rouse you?” you asked with a whine. “Because if so, I’m sorry. That’s much too chipper.” 

He laughed as he watched you change into the first things you found in your bag. “No, you’re nicer.” 

“You’re being plenty nice,” you scoffed. “I’m just a bitch to wake after a nap.” 

“Then we’re a pair, because normally I’m the same,” Freddie said. “Ready?” 

You nodded, meaning it at least partially, but grateful that Freddie let you lean just a bit on him until you were at the main staircase to the lobby. It wasn’t that you couldn’t work or anything, but you were groggy and tired and felt rather like you were still asleep, even as you walked with him out to the van to head to the venue. 

“Ready Freddie?” Roger asked with a sigh as the two of you settled beside him in the van. “And Y/N, you ready as well?” 

“Define ready,” you muttered. 

“Mostly awake?” 

“Then yes, I am ready,” you replied with a yawn.

You were able to mean it more in the venue, where the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety warmed and woke you up, the sound of the waiting crowd bringing you into the heat of the moment. 

From there, it was the usual rush, and it seemed Freddie was psychic. It was a good show, fantastic, one of the best yet, even. 

The post-show adrenaline was wild as a result, though only a few of the crew members were ready to go out on the town again.

“Besides, we only have a little while before we have to be on the road again,” Brian noted as you all walked back into the hotel. “May as well enjoy that time here as anywhere else.” 

“I think we can manage that,” Freddie said, a skip in his step as he led the way up the stairs to his room. “Can’t we?” 

“If you can sit still,” you joked, watching as he nearly jogged into the room. “You’ll be up the rest of the night at this rate.” 

“That’s the plan,” he smiled, and grabbed you by your hips to pull you close. 

You let him walk you backwards to the bed, leg again between your thighs as soon as you dropped with him onto the blankets. 

The rumors you had heard did not mark Freddie as a top, but blessedly he didn’t seem to mind taking that turn for the night. He let you go only to let you lay back on the bed, so he could rest on top of you, hips grinding against yours. 

You pondered briefly the thickness of the hotel walls as he kissed and nipped at your neck, as you remembered that Brian and John were supposed to be next door. You hadn’t heard them come up yet (the hotel bar might have enticed them away, despite the original promise of no partying from everyone who’d gone to back to the hotel) but you couldn’t get it out of your mind nonetheless. 

“You can be loud, if you want,” Freddie murmured. “Well, maybe not screaming loud, but louder than this.” 

“Hotel walls aren’t usually that thick,” you said, ending on a gasp as his hands roamed and plucked at your clothes. “And the guys-” 

“I’ve heard plenty from their rooms in the past,” Freddie interrupted with a smirk. “About time they heard something from mine.” 

He rolled off of you, and pulled at the sleeve of your shirt. “Off with it, come on. There’s no rush, but all the same, I’m tired of waiting.” 

You sat up, nodded your agreement, and started to undress, watching as he did the same. 

“Look,” you said. “We should probably just go over this first, maybe, I mean-” 

It was hard to broach, oddly enough. You suddenly found yourself shy. Then again, he’d had groupies before surely, what he might expect versus what you could give might be wildly different and-

It was almost like he could hear you overthinking it in your head, and he interrupted your train of thought with a soft kiss. 

“I’m disgusting,” he declared. “After all that running about onstage. I think a shower is in order, don’t you?” 

You nodded. “I sort of wondered if we might not want one. Not that either of us are filthy or anything, but simply for comfort’s sake.” 

The shower was cramped, and the water seemed to have zero interest in obeying the tap in regards to temperature and pressure. 

But it was lovely all the same, and you draped yourself over Freddie as opportunity allowed, in between the actual washing up. He might not have wanted to wait any longer for this (and for that matter, neither did you) but he still seemed to have no problem taking it slow, achingly slow. 

“If at any point any of this isn’t what you want, just say,” he murmured into your ear after a particularly deep kiss, that left you struggling not to cling to him to stay upright, your arms looped across his shoulders. 

“The same to you,” you managed weakly. It was hard to focus, with his thumb trained on your cock like it was, gentle movement but constant. Even as he finished washing up, he did it one-handed, grinning when you whimpered. 

“You could take a break, might be easier with two hands.” 

He nodded. “I can stop, just say if that’s what you want.” 

But you certainly didn’t want that, and you could see he was well aware of it. 

He teased as you got out and toweled off, only touching you briefly as you made your way back to the bed. 

“You know I’m going to have to get you back for this,” you said as you let yourself fall back on the bed, unable to hold back a happy sigh as he was on you again, though it was even better this time. 

His bare skin was warm, his cock hard against your thigh, your hip, your cock, as he moved to kiss you everywhere he could reach. 

It was heavenly, and you didn’t want it to end, and the sudden knock at the door was entirely unwanted. 

“Fuck off!” you cried before you could stop yourself, clapping a hand over your mouth afterwards.

His head dropped to your shoulder, body shaking as he laughed. “It’s just John. I asked him to come by with condoms; I had hoped it would be before we got this far though…” 

“Why on earth does he have them with?” 

Freddie carefully clambered off of you and pulled on his trousers as best he could, only reaching an arm out of the door before shutting it again. “Because he and Veronica do, on occasion, fuck without the intention of more children. Shocking as that may be, at this point.” 

“They do have two already,” you remarked. “Not to judge, or anything. I’ve just heard stories from the crew regarding his…homecomings and productivity once there.” 

“In any case, I didn’t anticipate finding anyone on a tour cycle this busy, my folly,” he continued. “So I’m stealing from him, though he did want me to let you know he considered it no problem at all to bring them by.” 

“I’ll have to apologize for telling him to…well,” you muttered. “Had I known it was him, I wouldn’t have shouted like that.” 

“And if it was Roger?” 

“By the time I’d be yelling, I presume he’d already be in the room, have offered a condom, and asked us if we wanted a drink,” you said dryly. “No offense to him, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if that’s what would happen.” 

“Probably not far off from how it would actually go,” Freddie admitted with a light shrug of his shoulders, dropping the condoms onto the bedside table. “Now, you’re going to have to be gentle with me on this part.” 

He slipped his trousers off again before moving to the front of the bed, a finger gesturing you to move down it, until your legs were hanging off the edge of it to the floor. “The times I did this prior, it wasn’t with someone like you, if you catch my meaning.” 

You nodded, thinking you were fairly sure as to what he was alluding to. 

“So as a result, I’m out of practice,” Freddie said as he dropped to his knees in front of you, and slipped in between your legs. “If any of this isn’t working for you, just say so. The only other thing I ask is not to pull my hair too hard, if you find yourself with that urge.” 

“I take it that’s gone poorly in the past?” 

“Not poorly so much as just a bit of over-enthusiasm from some otherwise lovely men,” Freddie replied. “I trust you at least won’t rip any of it out of my scalp.” 

You nodded your agreement, but had to rein your hands in the next moment as his head dipped down and his tongue slipped between the folds of your cunt. He maybe wasn’t practiced, but it also wasn’t everyday you had someone wanting to go down on you, and it had been long enough that any contact at all was perfect. 

You let your hands carefully twine through his hair, not pulling, but doing your best to gently let him know exactly how well he was doing. Aside from that, it was just bliss, his arms around your legs to keep you in place when you squirmed, when it was right on the edge of too much to handle. 

He moved away just before you could come, a satisfied grin on his face. “Not terrible?” 

“You left,” you whined softly. “Go back.” 

“What if I could do one better?” he asked, and started to reach for one of the condoms.

“No!” you nearly shouted, and his hand dropped immediately. 

“Okay, we won’t-” 

“No, I mean I want to, but I should reciprocate!” you said, gesturing to his cock. “And after last time, you said yourself, it should be when we had time, in an actual room with a bed and all, and-” 

You gestured around the room. “Room! Bed! So it isn’t fair if I don’t at least try.” 

He leaned down to kiss you, sweetly, only to suddenly flip you so he was laying on the bed, and you nearly toppled onto him. “Alright then. Do your worst.” 

“You joke, but you know I haven’t done this before,” you said. “So be kind, and if I’m absolutely doing horribly, please say something, don’t suffer in silence for the sake of my pride.” 

He chuckled, but stopped as you straddled his thighs, leaning down to press a kiss to his stomach. 

You trailed your way down, stopping only to gesture him closer to the edge of the bed as you got off of it and knelt down. 

You almost lost your bravery then, even as you wanted desperately to make him feel good, and licked a stripe up the full length of his cock.

He jumped, just a bit. “Not a bad start. You can take your t-” 

His breath caught in his throat as you took as much of him as you could manage in your mouth, letting your tongue rest on the underside of the head of his cock as you let it slide back out again. 

“Or not,” he nearly squeaked. “Or you could go for it, wholeheartedly. Either way, I’m happy.” 

“Are you?” you asked as you continued what was now a loving task to get him as close to coming as possible, only to stop right before he did, just as he had done to you. “Why don’t you tell me about it. How happy you are right now.” 

He laughed. “And you’ll let me talk?” 

You took him into your mouth again, and hummed happily as he gasped. 

He didn’t manage much in the way of any other words, until you finally stopped and joined him back up on the bed.

“Not bad?” 

“Not at all,” he sighed, his eyes shut, a smile on his face. “And if I have my way, we’ll have plenty more opportunities for both of us to practice all of that. In the meantime…” 

He rolled over on top of you, careful to let you adjust before he reached for the condoms again. “Are you ready this time? All good?” 

You nodded. 

“Are you sure? I need a yes.” 

“Yes,” you giggled. “You’re just teasing me now.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, but I don’t think I heard that first part clearly,” Freddie said as he opened the wrapper and put the condom on, then retrieved the lube from the table as well. “My hearing must be going in my old age, after so many incredibly noisy shows. You’ll have to be louder than that.” 

Instead, you whispered ‘yes’ into his ear as he finally slid inside of you, wrapping your legs around his back. 

“Do you plan on letting me move?” he smiled, kissing you gently along your neck and collar bone. “Or are you good with only this?” 

You laughed, and loosened your legs just enough so his hips could move, slow until you caught the rhythm and could move with him. 

There was no more worry about noise control; you simply couldn’t be bothered with it. It felt too good to restrain yourself from every moan, every whimper that made Freddie kiss you in reply or nip at your shoulder or neck just the way you liked. 

There was, after a bit, a sharp bang from the other side of the wall, though you couldn’t judge by the sound if it was Brian or John that had made it. 

In response, Freddie carefully flipped you over so you were straddling him, and thrust up just enough to make you happily yelp. 

“I don’t think that’s going to make them stop banging on the wall,” you said as you worked your hips, running your hands over the hair on his chest. “Might make it worse, in fact.” 

“Good,” Freddie said with a cheeky grin. “Let them spend the night trying to shut us up. They could find a better way to spend it, and ignore us, if they really wanted to, they simply aren’t trying hard enough to do that.” 

You nodded, focusing solely on how close you were, on how he seemed to be right there with you. His hips had lost the beat of it, and you motioned for him to let you move to lay sideways onto the bed. 

He slipped out of you for a brief moment, and you could have wept at the loss of that sensation, even though he was back inside you not but a second later. 

You ignored the sound of the headboard hitting the wall, the creaking of the mattress, another angry bang on the wall (heavier, probably John), and let your eyes meet Freddie’s. 

That was all it took, and your eyes shut as you came, with Freddie right after you, pulling you close and holding you tight enough to leave marks. 

“For fuck’s sake, are you finally done?” you heard through the wall, and you both burst out into giggles.

“Might have been a bit too loud,” you whispered.

“A tad,” Freddie whispered back. “Let me clean up, then we’ll sleep, and be nice and quiet for them until it’s time to leave.” 

The pre-concert nap with Freddie had been good, but this was something better on an entirely new level. Not just because you still had at least a couple of hours to sleep before getting back on the van to head to Boston, though that was fantastic. What really made it was that you’d finally had time to be together that way, with minimal interruptions, somewhere comfortable. It was a glimpse into what you would have back home with him in London, and it made all you the more excited for the end of the tour. 

And as much as you loved your job, the chance at more privacy together, more intimacy, more comfort, sounded like the best thing ever.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a time skip here, because otherwise this fic would have a ridiculous number of chapters if I went through literally every show on the 1978 Canadian/American tour roster lol. 
> 
> Warning for some casually transphobic microaggressions from the reader’s mother in a bit of this. Nothing horrible, but it’s based off of how my family acts around me at times and so…it’s also not great either. If you had to put it on a scale of 1-10, 1 being eh not so bad I can ignore it to 10 being oh god jesus the fuck is wrong with these transphobic assholes, it’s about a three. Also some general verbal emotional abuse. Fun fact, some of the dialogue in this are near quotations of things my mother has said to me irl! I never thought I’d get any use out of that hurt, but here we are!
> 
> Also, some big conflict, and some difficult decisions to make for Y/N.

You were grateful, as the tour progressed, that you and Freddie had finally gotten to fuck when you did. Because after? There was simply no time. 

It wasn’t just that stupid little things kept making you late (the van breaking down, a tire deciding it no longer felt like remaining on the van whilst on the highway no less, hotels not finding your reservations, venues with a whole variety of their own issues that made shows…interesting to complete) but that it was the heaviest fever-pitch of the tour cycle. It was about the middle, and things were settling, you in your job and the crew and band all together into a well-oiled concert-giving machine. 

As a result, you were exhausted a good ninety percent of the time, and so was Freddie (along with everyone else.) Conversations at night had dwindled to ‘I love yous’ and ‘fuck me running I could sleep for a year’ before you both passed out, only to get up early and run again. 

“Is it bad that I’m glad it’s nearly over?” you asked in the hotel room in Oakland, cuddled against Freddie as you both sat against the headboard of the bed. 

“No,” Freddie sighed. “It’s great fun, but tiring fun. And eventually, you do get sick of it.” 

“What show did you realize you were absolutely done with touring, this time around?” 

“….Miami?” he said, and laughed. “No, not quite that early, not really.” 

“Early tour jitters, maybe?” 

“That’s more like it,” he replied. “Now, it’s definitely being done with it. For a while, at least. It’ll be nice to go home. To take you home.” 

Your heart soared at that. It was common knowledge amongst the rest of the crew now as well, and you’d been lovingly teased over it ever since, that any time they caught you smiling, you must surely have been thinking about the end of the tour and heading to London with Freddie. To be fair to them, you often were thinking about it. It was hard not to, the closer it got. 

The phone at the beside rang, and you both exchanged a look. 

“Maybe a wrong number?” you mused as you picked it up. 

“Where are you?” your mother’s voice was sharp, panicked. “And when can you get here?” 

“Where, exactly?” you asked, slipping out of Freddie’s arms to sit on the side of the bed, stretching the cord of the phone less. 

“Home, where else?” your mother asked exasperatedly. “Your grandparents are both sick, and I can’t do this by myself. I need your help. You said I could always count on you, my good little gi-” 

Your mother stopped herself, then started again. “Child. Good little child, of mine. Anyway, when should I expect you here?” 

You scoffed. “You can’t expect me at all. We only just finished the Oakland show, and then we have three in Los Angeles and one make-up show in Washington, D.C. after those. I can’t come home even after that because-” 

You cut yourself off and turned to look at Freddie, who wore a concerned look on his face. It was sweet, and kind, and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Look, I’ve got to go. I can call you back later, and try and arrange to come out there in maybe a few weeks after the tour is over.” 

“That’ll be fine, I suppose,” your mother sniffed. “If they’re still alive by then. But no worries, I’m used to taking care of everything for you all by my lonesome. Nothing new there.” 

She hung up her end of the phone with a clatter, and that broke you. 

“What is it?” Freddie asked gently, pulling you back onto the bed and into his arms. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.” 

“My grandparents are ill, apparently,” you choked out in between sobs. “And my mother expects me to drop everything and go running back home, because supposedly no one else in the family will help her care for them.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, and kissed your forehead. “Were they sick when you left?” 

You shook your head. “Not at all. But they’re getting on in years, I suppose it could just happen out of the blue. But why she waits to call me now about it, I don’t understand. And I don’t even know how she found out where I am, I didn’t give her the exact tour dates…” 

A knock at the door, and Roger entered unannounced. 

“Ah. Your mum got a hold of you then?” 

Freddie nodded for you. “How do you know about it?” 

“Because. Crystal is Y/N’s contact here, and that was the only contact number we let Y/N give out to family for while he’s here with us on tour,” Roger said. “He made sure Y/N’s mum had a list of the concert dates, and apparently she knew we were in the city but not which hotel, and god, some of the hotels around here are angry beyond belief that she’s been blowing up their lines so much-” 

You sobbed even harder, unintentionally interrupting him, and Roger winced. 

“I’m sorry. We…maybe shouldn’t have given her the full tour info. We never imagined she’d do that with it, that’s for sure. When she finally got in touch with Crystal here, she said it was an emergency, but she wouldn’t say what about? Is everything okay?” 

“Family is sick,” Freddie said shortly. “And Y/N’s mother expects him home straight away.” 

Roger nodded. “Well, if you must…” 

“I’m not going!” you shouted, half of it coming out as an indignant laugh. “I don’t want them to die, but I know her, and I don’t believe it’s as bad as she says. She just wants me home so I can do whatever she tells me, so I can be another paycheck to help her pay bills after I find another shitty job there.” 

You curled into yourself, your face buried in Freddie’s chest. “I can’t go back. I can never go back. But I have to, or I’ll never forgive myself, But I can’t go now!” 

“Okay,” Freddie soothed, and you heard Roger leave the room by the quiet click of the door as it shut. “We’ll figure this out, remember? Maybe you can’t leave now, but…I mean, it’s really not ideal for you to go back at all, with the way you’ve said they act around you. But if it was me, I don’t think I could stay away, even if it turned out they weren’t really ill.” 

He sighed. “There’s no easy answer to this, I don’t think. And not necessarily a right one either. But you have some time, some days at least, to make a choice on it. And I’ll do my best to support whatever you decide, I promise.” 

You raised your head, and you could see in his eyes that he meant it, even if there was an edge there. 

The edge, like a cliff for the two of you to tumble off of, where you went home and couldn’t leave again. Where you’d never see each other again. Where you’d languish in a city you hated, around people who loved you out of familial obligation but not out of pure emotion and care. And where you’d both miss each other desperately, but would never be able to reconcile that pain. 

The shows after that were a blur. Not an unhappy one exactly, but not the ecstatic rush they had been prior. As you saw it, it was two separate eras: Pre-Phone Call and Post-Phone Call. Even with the troubles the tour had seen, you liked Pre-Phone Call much better. 

“If you need to stop there,” Brian said as you all entered the airport, since there was no way to drive all the way back to D.C. in decent time. “You can. I mean, you could spend a few hours there, then be to Washington right in time for the show, I’m sure.” 

You shook your head. “She’s waited this long, she can wait until this show is over, and that’s if I go at all.” 

Brian nodded, and patted your back before following the rest of the crew as you searched out the area you were meant to be in. 

The waiting at the airport didn’t lend itself well to your anxiety over the whole mess, and finally, you hit a breaking point. 

“Bathroom,” you muttered to Freddie as you stood up from the couch the two of you were lounged on. John and Roger immediately pulled your carry-on bags towards them, and you were grateful for it. That little gesture, a sign of the oddball band and crew family you’d come to love so dearly. 

And now, it might go away forever. 

You pressed him up against the wall before you could even get near a stall; there was the risk of being caught, but you didn’t much give a fuck about it. 

“Y/N,” Freddie murmured, kissing back only for a moment before grabbing you by the waist. “Hold on.” 

“I’ll stop, and you can wait for me out there,” you said. “But then I’m getting off in here on my own. I can’t just sit there, and keep thinking about this, running it over and over and over in my head-” 

He pulled you close, and you let yourself melt against him. “I can’t stand this.” 

“I know,” he said. “I don’t think I know anyone who could. But this isn’t the answer, not right now at least. Maybe later, as stress relief, once you’re home, and it’s all over.” 

“Home with you?” 

“Where else?” Freddie chuckled softly. “We’ll make a day of it, making you feel good and loved and not thinking another thing about anything or anyone else. As soon as the jet lag has worn off of you, that’s when we’ll plan it for.” 

“What if they don’t want me to go?” you asked, keeping your head pressed against his chest. 

“Last time I checked, you’re a grown man, who can come and go as he pleases, wherever he might like,” Freddie replied. “Your family might not see that, or might not want to, but that’s the simple truth of the matter. They can want you to stay all they like, but you can do whatever you want. And what do you want right now?” 

“To see my grandparents, make sure they’re going to be okay, then come home to you.” 

“Then that’s what you’ll do,” Freddie said, and the finality of it soothed the gaping crater of fear and anxiety and frustration that had made its home in your chest. 

It was easier to sit then, waiting for the plane, then waiting for the flight to be over (and watching Freddie fall asleep during it, head back, mouth open, out like a light, utterly adorable.) It almost felt normal again, as you went through the motions you had for the entire tour run. 

Airport to hotel, drop everything, change, and then the run to the final venue. 

—-

This time it was mercifully free of water, rats, and anything else that might have caused a problem, and the owner seemed much happier and calmer for it. 

That made the show feel cleaner too, watching from backstage as it all went off without a hitch. No broken strings, no outfit issues, no broken drum set, nothing wrong at all. 

“You’re Y/N, right?” 

You turned, and saw the venue owner holding a phone receiver, the cord stretched nearly to breaking.

“An emergency call, per the lady on the phone, she said to get you right away-” 

You nodded your thanks, took the phone, and followed the cord back to its home, the venue owner trailing behind you. 

“What?” 

“That’s a lovely way to talk to your mother, when I’m calling to check in and wish you a good concert.” 

“We’re in the middle of it now,” you said through gritted teeth. “I need to go do my job. How did you even get this number?!” 

“I’m sure they can do without you for a bit,” your mother said carelessly, ignoring your question as if you hadn’t asked it at all. “Now, about your coming here, I have some things I’ll need you to do right away when you get in-” 

“Look,” you interrupted forcefully. “I’m only coming to make sure Grandma and Grandpa will be okay. Then I’m leaving. I have another flight to catch, three days after I get to where you are. And I’m not changing it, or missing it, no matter what.” 

She went silent for a moment, and you moved to hang up the phone. 

“You know, it’s a real shame. We didn’t raise you to be so mean. And after all we’ve done for you.” 

“This is not the time for this discussion,” you spat, looking out to the hall only to see Crystal there, giving you a universal ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’ gesture. “I need to go.” 

“No time for your mother, or your grandparents,” your mother tutted. “What must they think of you there, when they hear you on the phone like this?” 

“They don’t hear me, because they’re wondering where the fuck I am, because they need me to be with them, doing my job,” you replied. “I’ll be on a flight to you after the concert; we can talk more when I get to you.” 

“Why won’t you say ‘home’?” your mother asked. “Just say it: ‘when I get home.’“ 

You bit your tongue, and held your breath so you wouldn’t screech in frustration and aggravation. 

“Say it. For me.” 

You couldn’t. ‘Home’ there had only barely ever been a home, only in the slightest sense. ‘Home’ now, was wherever Freddie was, and that was how you liked it, and you couldn’t and wouldn’t say anything to contradict it. 

“Ugh,” your mother scoffed. “Fine then, be that way. Maybe you ought not come anyway; it would probably upset your grandparents and hurt them more, if this is how you’re going to be. We raised you to be considerate of others, but apparently you’ve willfully forgotten that lesson. Just forget all about it.”

She hung up, and you handed the phone to the venue owner, who took it with a solemn look. 

It was like moving in slow motion after that, going through the motions to finish out the concert, but only being able to concentrate on trying not to break down and cry. 

You couldn’t manage to go in the green room after. You wanted Freddie’s comfort, but not at the loss of his own post-concert joy. 

Instead, you bummed a cigarette off of another tech, and went outside to smoke in the cold winter air, which was where he found you. 

“You smoke? Since when?” 

You shook your head. “Not since high school. This is only for tonight. Just getting me through.” 

“Through what?” Freddie asked, and shivered. He was only in his concert get-up and the yellow robe he wore after each show. It was thick, but not much against the December wind. 

“Through my mother telling me not to bother. Saying terrible things that I know aren’t true, but that I can’t convince myself of their falseness all the same,” you replied as you shifted off your jacket, and wrapped it around his shoulders. 

“Put this back on, you’ll freeze otherwise,” Freddie instructed, but you left it on him. 

“I’m not feeling much of anything right now. Hot, or cold, or anything at all.” 

You finished the cigarette, and stamped it out on the snowy ground. “I should go help clean up.” 

“No, Crystal said they’ve got it,” Freddie said, stepping in front of you before you could move. “He figured something had happened when you took a call mid-show.” 

“I didn’t want to,” you said. “It was terribly unprofessional of me, and it won’t happen again.” 

He sighed, and moved again to be beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You don’t need to apologize like that. Or at all. It’s fine, everything was okay. Turned out great, in fact. A good show to end the tour on.” 

You knew the tears on your face were warm in contrast to the coldness of your skin, but it barely registered as they fell to the snow. “I wish it hadn’t ended. I mean, I did want it to so we could go home together, but now I have to go…there first and I kept somehow hoping it would all go slower. But it didn’t, and now there’s nothing I can do about it, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with being around them again.” 

He took your hand, and you let him lead you back inside, ignoring the concerned stares of everyone you passed. You knew they had questions, but they were all kind enough not to ask them right then.

You watched as he changed, sniffling in the one decent chair in the green room that he had deposited you in. You swore he was taking his time, for your sake, and it made you want to run over and kiss him, but you couldn’t seem to move. 

He led you out of the venue again, onto the van, then into the hotel. Not a word passed between you and him to anyone else, even as part of you wanted to explain it all to them, to apologize for your suddenly going cold and quiet and broken. 

“We’ll sleep, and then you can make a final choice tomorrow,” Freddie said as he helped you out of your concert clothes and into the one change of night clothes you had in your bag. You’d barely worn them while with Freddie, it was more comfortable to be just in your underwear, warm skin to warm skin under the covers. 

The cold lingered in your bones now though, and you shivered even after you were dressed, even as he wrapped you in his arms under the covers. 

You weren’t sure you would ever be ready for tomorrow, and you didn’t want it to come. To stay in the bed of the hotel room, intertwined with Freddie, safe and warm and loved, was the only moment you wanted to exist in.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we reach our end with this short chapter! Short because I chose to not have a portion with the reader back in their hometown; I wanted to focus as much on happiness and love in this piece as possible, and adding that section in would detract from it. If there would be interest, I might be willing to write that section as bit of mini fic continuation to this though. 
> 
> This has been an incredibly fulfilling, fun, and cathartic piece to write. I’m more grateful than I can say to all who have read it; I hope you’ve liked reading it as much as I’ve liked writing it!
> 
> And while this may be the end of this particular fic, I’d like to write more Freddie x trans ftm reader in the future, so keep an eye out for that as I get time to write it! 
> 
> I’m especially considering a follow up to this; an interlude of sorts where we get to see more of the reader and Freddie traveling together outside of tour and then at home in London. If any of y’all feel a particular interest for that follow-up, please let me know! My plan is to write it anyway, but if there’s more than just my interest then I’ll be working to write it sooner rather than later lol.

You woke feeling like utter shit. Freddie was already up and dressed, and he watched with concerned eyes as you sat up, rubbing at your eyes. 

“You’re really going back?” Freddie asked quietly, his eyes cast to the floor. 

“I don’t want to,” you replied, shifting to sit on the edge of the hotel bed. “But they’re still family.” 

“Who make you uncomfortable, and who you’ve already admitted were the reason why you weren’t going back at all at the end of the tour,” Freddie said, and you could feel the frustration radiating off of him. Clearly, he’d been stewing over this while you’d slept.

“It’ll be a few days there, and then I’ll be in London,” you sighed. “I promise; once I know my grandparents are steady enough again and my mother is placated, then I’ll be on the first plane to you.” 

“I know you feel you have an obligation to them, and I know what I’ve already said on this all,” Freddie sighed, then scoffed. “I hate this situation for you. This isn’t fair to you.” 

You shrugged. “A lot of things aren’t fair. May as well throw this situation on the pile.” 

He chewed at his lip, and you frowned. 

“You’re worried I won’t come to London, aren’t you? But why? You know I don’t want to stay back there; I’d rather die first. I’m promising you; it’ll only be three days and then I’ll be on my way to you.” 

Freddie lifted his head, and there were tears on the edges of his eyes. “Promises, in my experience, don’t often mean much. Why should I trust this one?” 

“Because,” you said. “I mean it. And have I given you any reason not to trust me? Or have other people broken their promises, and you’re guessing I’ll do the same?” 

You could see by his face he was calculating what to say next, knowing Freddie it could either be something biting and mean, not really meant but an expression of anger, or he would break down entirely, and you couldn’t blame him for having either reaction. 

Instead, however, he sighed. “Alright. I’m not…really sure about this, if I’m honest. It isn’t you, it’s…” 

“Everyone else in the past,” you interrupted. “I get it, at least in the sense that I’ve had a lot of promises broken to me too. I understand why you’re hesitant. But please, let me prove to you that I can keep this. I know that you know how badly I want to keep this. Let me show you that promises don’t have to be broken like they’re nothing at all. Because this is so much more to me, this is everything. Everything I thought I had no chance of ever having in my life.”

Freddie wiped a tear away before it fell, and wrapped you in a hug before pressing a kiss to your lips, almost hard enough to hurt. “Just stay safe there. The way you’ve talked about home, the way I’ve heard your mother on the phone…I just don’t like the idea of you being there alone. With people like that. I mean, you’ve come out to them, not everyone can do that with their families, surely they could respect that and try and understand and just…be better. Be kinder.” 

“You could come with me.” 

He laughed. 

“I mean it. Frankly, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. That way you can see that I’ll be safe while I’m there, and you know I’ll be coming home with you, because we’ll…well. We’ll be together! Flying there, and then back out to London once things are as settled as I can make them for my grandparents,” you continued. 

“Your family-” 

“Can say whatever the fuck they want about me,” you interrupted. “But I wouldn’t ever, and won’t ever, let them talk shit about someone I love. They can insult me until their faces are blue, but the moment they say anything about you, I’ll make sure they say nothing else.” 

“Love,” Freddie murmured, before lunging forward again to press you down against the bed, covering you in kisses. “You mean it, love, really? Really really?” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you laughed. “I’ve meant it every time I said it before, and I’ll mean it just as strongly every time I say it to you in the future. Maybe this would all be too soon for someone else, maybe they’d hold back and say more than a tour cycle would be needed for love…But I love you, so incredibly much. I do. I’ve always fallen fast for people. It gets me hurt, but if I have to hurt in order to feel love this fantastic…well, it’s worth it.” 

“I love you too,” he sighed happily. “And I’ll go with you. You can show me around your hometown then, we’ll make it a date.” 

“I mean, it isn’t New Orleans,” you said. “Or even anything like the cities we’ve been in on tour…it could be worse, but it could be better. There’s some stuff to do, not a lot. I can show you the river, if nothing else. Some people like that.” 

“It’s perfect,” Freddie said. “We’ll dance by the river in your hometown, and the next moment I can arrange it we’ll head out to New Orleans, and have our dance there.” 

And you did, with no music in your hometown, and a fantastic jazz band in New Orleans a few months later. And in Montreux, a year later, in between album recording and touring. And many times again after that in London, both in Freddie’s home and in your flat. It became a wonderful habit, no matter how the two of you were feeling, swaying to whatever song you could find on the radio that was decent enough soothed every hurt, eased every rough day into a better night.

—-

Those memories stuck out in your mind, as well as everything that came after, because even after the relationship had ended, you had stayed close. There had been dinners and nights out with him and his friends and latest boyfriends, and it was always a joy to see him happy. 

You knew he had been his happiest in the end, with Jim, and that was comfort enough as you left a bouquet of yellow tulips and daffodils at the wall of Garden Lodge. As painful as it was to have this be your last visit to it, without Jim or any of your other shared friends there, outside of the house, an eye on the security camera scanning the street from the wall, you were grateful you were able to have it at all. 

Because the next night, you were getting on a flight to New Orleans. He had always urged you to be somewhere that made you happy, and your memories of him there made you happier than anything. 

You could do that much for him, now, when there was no way to do anything else. 

And if listening to the jazz bands there brought you to tears from now on? That was just the painful joy of memory, and it was worth it to remember all that love.


End file.
